Wild Card
by Mighty ANT
Summary: In which Radiator Springs never existed, Mater is a sharp detective, and Finn needs the tow truck's help to save his partner. L/S and eventual M/H -AU- *Based on Cars Toons: Mater Private Eye*
1. Noir et Blanc

_**Noir et Blanc **_

_~In which Radiator Springs never existed, Mater is a sharp detective, and Finn needs the tow truck's help to save his partner. Eventual M/H and L/S -AU- *Based on Cars Toon: Mater Private Eye*~_

**A/N: To understand this story, you don't need to have watched the Cars Toon this fic is based on because I retell it here. So enjoy it, and review, please!**

* * *

_**~Downtown Chicago- 1915 Hours~**_

The rain fell steadily that Friday night; the sound of a train track not too far off mixing with the steady rhythm of the rain pattering against the window of a motel, the sign outside flickered faintly. On the glass, "Mater Private Eye" was visible, and inside was the detective himself.

Tow Mater had been working in his office downtown, a few small jobs all he had to keep him going, but this time had was on to something big. _Really _big.

There were newspapers spread out on the desk in front of the tow truck, all about the same topic; blowouts everywhere. Tires were failing everyone, and Mater was almost positive that there was some sort of counterfeit tire ring. There was also a sale on trailer hitches down at Rusty Rod's, but that was beside the point.

He was fully prepared to hit the bricks, when…._she_ drove in.

There was a knock at the door, and after a moment they were pushed open, revealing a small Miata dressed in a dark hat and bow. She was wearing whitewalls, the ones that used to drive him crazy. "Hello, Mater," she remarked seductively, but the tow truck ignored her advances, his answer deadpanned.

"What're you doin' here, Tia?"

"I missed you," she replied as if it was obvious, the tow truck turning away from the Miata, the light from outside reflecting off of his paint.

"Like you missed your last smog check," he muttered in return. Tia gasped, hurt across her features.

"You don't have to play poker with me!" she cried, shifting her tires. Mater barely glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he answered.

"Well you always were the wild card."

The tow truck knew that this couldn't go on forever. Tia was the kind of girl that smashed your heart to pieces if you opened it up to her, and had done so to him a time or two. He couldn't keep falling for her helpless-victim act. ….Like he was doing right now….

Turning back towards the Miata, the private investigator inquired, "What do you want?"

"I need you to find my sister Mia," the smaller car began, lower lip trembling. "She's been car-napped!"A sob escaped her, and she shook visibly for a moment. Mater simply rolled his eyes at her theatrics.

"Quit the waterworks, will ya'? Where did you last see 'er?"

Tia rolled up slightly, locking eyes with the taller car, thunder rumbling and a flash of lightning illuminating the room as the Miata spoke."She was working for Big D."

"Big D, ya say?" Mater inquired curiously, eyelid raised. The smaller car tossed a newspaper onto the desk, only adding to the pile that had accumulated there, this one depicting the image of an older model car on the cover.

"She was working at his club," Tia continued." The Carbacabana."

* * *

_**~The Carbacabana Nightclub- 2000 Hours~ **_

The interior of the club was dimly lit; small candles on the tables as the main source of light, as well as the large stage set up in the front. Upbeat, Cuban music drifted through the room, the singer none other than Lola Motorama, the stunning car wearing something akin to a turban, filled with fruits of all kinds. Three forklifts sang beside her, each playing a different instrument; guitar, maracas, and conga drums.

_Downtown traffic_

_Always so frantic!_

_Downtown traffic_

_Oh, so romantic-oh-oh-oh!_

Mater watched the performance keenly, paying specific attention to the larger forklifts that had stationed themselves at the exits. This Motorama car was one of the only vehicles present who he could question freely without the danger repercussions. Or at least that's what he hoped...

_I give to you a driving lesson!_

_Oooooh…oooh….oooh_

_Cha-cha-cha!_

Cheers swiftly sprouted from the vehicles gathered, and the Motorama car smiled graciously at the praise, beginning to drive off the stage,"_Muchas gracias_!" she called with a laugh and thick Cuban accent, before stopping in front of the detective, smile vanishing. "You wanted to see me, _señor?"_

"Ah'm lookin' fer Mia," the tow truck began, glancing around for an instant."You seen 'er?"

"Mia? Peh," Lola spat disdainfully. "That ragtop." The singer's expression became indifferent, "I don't remember."

"Well maybe _this_ will help you remember." Using his tow hook, Mater plucked a shiny whitewall tire out of his flat bed, dropping it onto the table next to him with a dull thunk.

"Ooh, maybe," Lola mused, gaze locked on the new tire. The tow truck rolled his eyes before pulling out three more, the last coming to a stop upright, and spinning around with a slight squeal. "Oh," the Motorama car began, lifting herself up slightly. "Well _now _I remember."

The Cuban singer sidled up next to the private investigator, his hat tipping slightly as she spoke, "I saw her a couple of days ago with Big D."

"Where'd they go?"

"I don't know," Lola whined. "And I don't care." Mater rolled his eyes once more before the Motorama car quickly spoke again, sticking her tongue out in disgust for a moment, "But she did smell salty, like the ocean."

Mater's eyes widened slightly at the revelation, but before he could speak a small white forklift with a hat of the same color rode over, interrupting them,"Hey, this guy buggin' you?"

"Not yet," Lola quickly interfered, glancing back at the tow truck with a wink. "But a girl can hope." Her confident look faded when one of the larger, darker forklifts drove up, eyes narrowed.

"Well he's buggin' me!"

In the next instant, Mater found himself tossed forcibly out of the club, the huge forklift coming up from behind to pick him up once more. The smaller forklift rode out as well, and the tow truck muttered, "Hello, Clyde." The detective was turned to face the small gangster-esque vehicle, "where'd ya get the hand trap?"

One of Clyde's forks switched open into a sharp screwdriver, and he began questioning the tow truck, "You're a very nosy fellow, kitty cat, huh? You know what happens to guys who shine their headlights in the wrong places, huh, no, wanna guess, huh?"

"Ah dunno, free car wash?"

"No," the forklift snapped, inserting the screwdriver under Mater's headlight, popping it out and allowing it to shatter against the cobblestone street. "They lose 'em." The tow truck cried out in pain, flinching, and Clyde continued, flipping the screwdriver back into place, "next time it's the blinkers, understand?"

The small forklift drove back into the club, the larger one tossing Mater out onto the road before following.

* * *

_**~Chicagoan back alleys, 2130 Hours~**_

The private investigator was down to one headlight, but he could still see just fine.

Driving up a dark alley, lone headlight shining faintly, and where the other used to be covered by a large bandage, the tow truck came to a stop several feet from a large, filthy garbage truck who was just lifting the last of his load onto the huge container on his back. "Hey, Stinky," Mater greeted. "What's the dirt on the street?"

"I don't know," the large truck muttered, shrugging lightly.

"No?"

"No. They got me working the alleys, dumping all these blowouts," 'Stinky' affirmed, jerking his hood lightly in the direction of the large, industrial sized garbage cans.

"Blowouts, ya say?"

"Yeah. It's odd though," the garbage truck mused lightly.

"Odd?" Mater repeated, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"They all have this smell…"

"Smell?" the tow truck questioned.

"They smell salty," Stinky clarified.

"Salty?"

"Like the ocean."

"Ocean?"

"I haven't smelled that since I worked down at the docks…"

"Rocks?"

"Docks."

"Ducks?"

"_Docks!"_

"Oh, the docks!" Mater grasped, jumping up in realization. "Thanks, Stinky!" he called, beginning to drive out of the dank alley. The garbage truck smirked.

"You're welcome, Mater."

* * *

_**~Fanbelt Docks, 0000 Hours~**_

The docks were full of activity, even so late at night. Forklifts of all sizes drove to and fro a large cargo ship, carrying a varying size of crates. Cranes helped with loading as well, the dark port teeming with light and working vehicles. Mater peered out from behind one of the large wooden boxes, swiftly catching sight of the bulky forklift from before lowering a parking booted- and duct taped-Mia onto the ship's deck. The private investigator gasped lightly,"Mia!"

The tow truck swiftly backed into the shadows as his cry caught the attention of a lone forklift, although the smaller vehicle shrugged it off after a moment, continuing on his way. Sighing in relief, Mater began glancing around, trying to think of a way to get to the Miata. His gaze landed on the crates beside him, and he smirked deviously.

A few short minutes later, a stack of boxes rode by, tow hook clearly visible as it made its way onto the ship. Or attempted to, at least.

A small number of dock pitties that'd been playing poker over a stack of crates noticed the independently moving containers, and one of them whistled sharply, a crane hearing and lowering his own hook, picking up the boxes to reveal none other than the tow truck himself.

Mater was swiftly surrounded, and he glanced around nervously for a moment, Mia tied up in front of him,"Uh-oh..."

Big D himself drove up, smirk adorning his grill. "Big D!" the private investigator cried in realization, grinning proudly. "Wait 'till ah tell the DA!"

"You ain't telling the DA notin'!" the older model snapped, the crane behind the tow truck easily picking him up, dangling the detective above everyone's hoods.

"What the—Ah been shanghaied!" Mater cried out in shock, only for a familiar voice to cry out in objection, and familiar Miata driving up on the other side of Big D."Tia!" the tow truck shouted. "You double-crossin' double-crosser!" he accused.

"I had no choice!" Tia cried."It was the only way to save my sister!"

"Well ya always did the right thing," Mater amended slightly, the crane beginning to turn so that he dangled above the dark water."Just the wrong way."

But before the detective could be dropped into the ocean, the sound of sirens reached them and a group of police cars swiftly arrived, the leader of the group none other than Lieutenant Lightning McQueen. "Looks like we've finally caught ya, Big D!" the cruiser yelled, high beams planted on the older vehicle.

"Oh no, McQueen!" Big D shouted indignantly, backing up in horror. The police cars roared forward, but just before they were able to drive up the plank to reach the ship's deck, dock pitties dumped several empty barrels down the wooden walkway, the cruisers forced to stop as the metal containers crashed into them.

Through the ongoing chaos, they had failed to dump Mater into the ocean, and after gathered her courage, Tia raced over to the crane, pushing a button to make the derrick turn, dropping the detective onto the deck. Once he gathered his wits, the tow truck noticed Big D trying to escape, and in a moment of blatant immaturity, hooked his tow cable around another crane, this once hefting a large rectangular box, and spinning it around with a giddy cry of,"Weeee-hooo!" forcing the crane to turn and drop his load onto the Oldsmobile.

The crate shattered on impact, the tires having filled the box falling on top of him, one of the settling around Big D's hood ornament. "Just what ah thought!" Mater cried smugly, driving over to the criminal. On closer inspection, the tires covering him read "Lite Yeer". "Counterfeit tires!" the tow truck continued. The young police cruiser rode up to the old model car as well, nodding proudly.

"Led us right to 'im, Mater." McQueen turned towards the rest of his men, "Take him away boys!"

* * *

_**~Outskirt of Fanbelt Docks, 0103 Hours~**_

Sirens wailing, the three police cars escorted the Oldsmobile to the station, lieutenant taking up the lead as they drove under a bridge, disappearing into the fog and they headed towards the station. Tia had been hiding in the shadows, coming out when Mater drove over.

"This is a fine mess you got me into, Tia," he began, glancing down at the Miata.

"I'm not bad, Mater," the smaller car murmured."I just drive that way."

_As if that solved anything_, the tow truck thought with an internal sigh.

Smirking lightly, the Miata drove around him, humming thoughtfully, "Now c'mon," Tia started, turning to face the detective once more. "Let's pick up where we left off."

Her smile fell, and the Miata gasped once she caught sight of the tow truck driving off, disappearing into the gloom as well.

* * *

"And you're positive that this is him?"

"It's in clear black n' white," the Jaguar replied, pushing the newspaper towards the Aston Martin across from him. "Mater Private Eye. The one car that revealed "Big D's" counterfeit tire ring." Leland looked up from the paper, "Now what do you have in mind, McMissile? Why even search for this American bloke?"

"Because," the spy car replied, gaze never leaving the newspaper laid out in front of him, and the image of tow truck plastered over them. "He's the only one with enough skills that can help me find my partner."

* * *

_**A/N: The entire plot of this chapter -excluding the last bit up above- is copied from the Mater's Tall Tales toon. All credit goes to PIXAR. **_

_**~Noir et blanc means 'black and white' in French, just so you know that this entire story will be set in the aforementioned color scheme~**_

_**~Cars + Toons (c) PIXAR 2006-2011~**_

_**I apologize for not knowing what kind of car Big D was-if anyone does know, please tell me so that I can correct it. **_

_**And by the way, I came up with the Motorama car's name. Lola's from the 'Copacabana' song by Barry Manilow that the club in this story is based on, and Motorama is the car-ified version of 'Miranda' like Carmen Miranda, only it's Lola Motorama. Yep, so that's it...**_

_**Please review, and flames are not tolerated! **_


	2. Make Do and Mend

_**Make Do and Mend **_

_~Cars (c) PIXAR 2006-2011~_

_**A/N: **__Cameo appearances for Luigi, Guido, Ramone and (sort of) Flo._

* * *

_**~Mater's office, downtown Chicago 1100 Hours~**_

"Ya' know, Mater, you're gonna have to leave your office sometime."

The young police car watched his friend with raised eyelids (the private eye already rid of the bandage covering his now nonexistent headlight) as he paced the length of his office, oftentimes murmuring quietly to himself. "Ah've got a buncha' cases, McQueen," the tow truck muttered absentmindedly, gaze flitting over to a board set up along the wall, dozens of newspaper clippings and images tacked onto it.

It was true however that the detective's popularity had increased ten-fold after his discovery of the counterfeit tire ring, and now had several dozen cases to work on as of late. McQueen was proud of his friend, there was no denying that, but the tow truck was beginning to became a bit fixated on his work. And so it was the police car's job to get Mater to lay back and enjoy life, or at the very least make him leave his office. So far McQueen was failing.

"Oh c'mon!" the police car cried huffily, driving up closer to his friend, "I could find you a nice girl, and then we could go out on a night on the town—like a double date."

Mater smirked lightly, glancing at his friend out of the corner of his eye,"Ah'm purdy sure Miss Sally would wantcha' all ta' herself."

McQueen grinned dreamily at the mention of his fiancée, before swiftly returning to reality with a shake of the hood,"Oh please, Mater, don't even play that card. You and I both know you can't stay in here forever."

The tow truck shrugged somewhat apathetically, before changing the subject, "How's cleanup on the Big D case?"

Frowning at the sudden adjustment of topic, the cruiser answered, "Pretty good, I guess."

"The DA get a hold a' Big D?"

McQueen smirked impishly, "Yes, Sally made sure he was put in jail."

"Good, good," the private investigator nodded. "An' everythin' else?"

"Oh, The Carbacabana was bought by another car…" McQueen paused for a moment, before the name came to him."Flo Motorama. She also owns the café a couple blocks uptown, and her husband the body art place just across the street from it."

Mater nodded rather indifferently, before realization dawned,"Motorama?"

"Yep. She's Lola's cousin, apparently. Nice lady, the club will be better for it."

"And the tires?"

"Recalled from every store," the cruiser affirmed, before pausing. "Well...except one."

"Whadaya mean?" the detective questioned, an eyelid raised.

"There was this little privately owned tire shop…they refused to sell the counterfeit tires and now that the other stores are gettin' next –to-no business, they're pretty much rakin' it in. Forgot the name of the place though, it was nice, kinda quaint and Italian-like…."

McQueen shook his hood, clearing his mind."Back on topic, Mater! You can't stay locked in here all day!" the cruiser rode over to the lone window, pulling open the blinds so that tentative sunlight could filter through, "You've gotta go out, have fun! Find a girl, at the very least!"

"No can do, bud," Mater said with a shake of the hood, disregarding everything the police car had just told him, direction his gaze towards the tacked board once more, "To much ta' do here."

The cruiser sighed dejectedly, sagging visibly before beginning to back out of his friend's office, "Suit yourself, Mater. But if you need anything, just drop by the station." McQueen paused for a moment, before adding, "And don't even think about rushing off without telling me, by the way. If you get a lead on any case, come and get me so that I can help. I'm not always goin' to know who your sources are, and where to find 'em, like with the Big D case."

The tow truck nodded idly, and the police car finally left the dark office, doors closing behind him with a low click.

Once the purr of his friend's powerful engine faded, Mater turned away from his 'evidence board' and towards his desk, where more recent newspapers covered the old. And one of the newest correspondents depicted the tiny and significantly blurred image of a female car (the picture was far too fuzzy to be able to tell what the model was) at the far corner of the page, the print above it just as small. The miniature title read 'Technical Department MI6 Agent-Missing.'

Scoffing lightly under his breath, the tow truck flipped open the newspaper, swiftly scanning over the small paragraph of information. Nothing too interesting or attention-grabbing. Shoving the newspaper away, Mater began flipping through a few others, once again finding nothing particularly out of the ordinary, before moving over to his 'evidence board', several lengths of string connecting each clipping and image. It wasn't until later that Mater would find the name of the missing MI6 agent –and the agent in general—to be, actually, rather important.

* * *

**A/N: Yep, I updated this pretty quickly...as opposed to my other fics...**

**Anyway, there's the Sally/Lightning you were all waiting for, and don't worry, there will be more. **

**And yes, Sally is the DA= District Attorney ;)**

**Now...review! **


	3. Dames and Dough

_**Dames and Dough**_

_~Cars characters © PIXAR 2006-2011~_

* * *

_**~The Carbacabana, 2030 Hours~**_

The nightclub was alive and bursting with sound, music pouring out of the dark building. And while there was now a new owner, she had decided to keep the nightclub the way it had been before, with only a few minor changes, keeping the same name, staff, and entertainment. Speaking of which, Lola Motorama was singing once more, her presence having nothing to do with the fact that her cousin owned the club. The patrons simply enjoyed her singing, and so she stayed.

At the moment, Mater was idling at one of the tables once more, having been finally dragged out of his office by Lieutenant McQueen and his fiancée Sally, the couple parked on the opposite side as Lola sang. Waiters raced to and from customers, although they hardly interrupted the Cuban car's singing. She had been growing more popular, but had decided to remain in the club for the time being.

_Si, si, si, si, si, si, si_

_See the moon, above_

_Way, way, way, way, way, up in the blue_

_Si, si, si, señor, I think I fall in love and when I fall_

_I think I fall for you_

Lola sang jovially as always, Cuban accent ringing loud and clear, and on the last line sent Mater a suggestive wink. Attempting to keep his unemotional mask up, the tow truck couldn't help but crack a small smile. Always the flirt….

"She's such a tart, isn't she?"

Jumping at the sudden voice, Mater turned to lock eyes with a Motorama car almost identical to the one onstage. Her coloring was different however, and other than the notable lack of fruit on her roof, her lips were more metallic and 'V'-shaped. She smirked, the police car and Porsche having to yet notice her presence. "Sorry, I've always wanted to say that. Those Brits get all the interesting phrases."

The tow truck's eyelid rose,"Flo Motorama, ah presume?"

"Last time I checked," she nodded. "And you're the fine detective that made it possible for me to buy this place, unintentionally, of course."

It was then that the police cruiser noticed the show car before them, and tore his eyes away from his fiancée to greet her,"Hey, Flo!"

The show car smirked, "How's it goin', McQueen?"

"Pretty good," Lightning grinned, the Porsche next to him rolling her eyes with a smile.

"Hey, Flo."

The Motorama car smirked widely, "Well hello, Sally. Congrats on the engagement, you two."

"Thanks," McQueen answered, drawing himself up. Flo chuckled, shaking her hood in amusement before getting down to business.

"Now y'all want somethin' to drink?"

A bit put-off by the show car's laid back demeanor, the tow truck answered first, "quart a' oil, please. Ah've gotta long drive home t'night."

"Two of my usual order, Flo," the police car added, and the club owner nodded with a smile, beginning to drive towards the bar.

"Can do, fellas."

Lola's previous song ended, and she promptly started on a new one, accent becoming slightly more pronounced as she sang.

Beginning to tune out his friends' conversation, Mater began mentally looking over his list of more recent cases, and as a result, failed to notice the two British cars driving into the club.

* * *

"Tell me why we're here again, Finn?" the Jaguar inquired quizzically, not a smidge of sarcasm spared as the two spy cars sat in the back of the dark club. The Aston Martin heaved an exasperated sigh for the umpteenth time, turning towards his companion.

"Because, Leland, we came to search for the private investigator."

"Well I don't see how this American bloke will help us find Shiftwell,"Leland huffed, looking off to the side, only to lay eyes on the Cuban Motorama car singing at the head of the club, fully ignoring what his comrade said next.

"He's supposed to be one of the top private investigators in the state, and to solve a case of that magnitude—are you even listening?"

"Uh huh."

Following the Jaguar's line of sight, Finn groaned irritably before turning back towards his friend, eyelid raised in annoyance, "You are aware of the fact that you're married, correct?"

"Of course, "Leland scoffed. "But that doesn't mean I can't _look_."

"Actually, I believe it does mean—"the Aston Martin began to point out, only to be cut off by an unknown female voice.

"So what'll you boys be havin'?"

The two spy cars turned simultaneously, and were met with a Motorama car extremely similar to the one onstage, only with a few noticeable differences. Leland answered first, putting on his most suave smile, "Scotch, please. Extra olives, extra ice."

"Alright, and you?" she inquired, fully ignoring the coupe's advances, turning towards the Aston Martin.

"Ah, nothing for me, thank you."

The Jaguar whispered to the Motorama car conspiringly behind a tire, "He's a lightweight."

Finn sent his companion a piercing glare, before turning back to the show car ordering their drinks, "say, aren't you the owner of the club?"

"Indeed I am," the Motorama car answered proudly.

"So why are you waiting tables?" Leland inquired with a raised eyelid. The club owner smirked in response.

"I believe that a good owner of any restaurant, café, or diner should do as much work as their employees."

"Hmm," Finn murmured absently, turning slightly to look over the club's patrons. The Motorama car noticed this sudden shift in behavior and after a moment raised an eye ridge.

"You two cops, or somethin'?"

"Or something," the Aston Martin muttered in a clipped tone, and the show car smirked lightly.

"Well alright, but if y'all ever need anythin', the name's Flo."

The two spy cars bobbed their hoods slightly, and the club owner began to go into reverse, heading for another table across from them. The Jaguar watched her leave for a moment before Finn rolled his eyes and bumped him lightly to get his attention, "We're supposed to be on lookout, Leland."

"Yeah, yeah," the coupe grumbled, shifting his gaze towards the patrons around them. Both cars were silent for several moments, Leland having diverted his attention towards the singing Motorama car once more, while the Aston Martin watched the exits.

Four more songs were sung before something actually happened.

Three older model cars rolled into the club, their paint dark and shining dully in the faint candlelight, and Finn backed up further into the shadows upon seeing them. The sports coupe beside the Aston Martin watched him reverse with raised eyelids, following his lead before muttering quizzically, "What're you doing, McMissile?"

The Aston Martin jerked his hood in the old model cars' direction, "Those are some of the men Miss Shiftwell and I were trying to get information on. They'll most likely have guards posted all over the club, and won't hesitate in effectively 'silencing' us. If they see me, the entire mission could be jeopardized."

Finn's glare never left the three cars, who by now had begun to drive further into the club, heading towards a table near the back. The Jaguar sighed heavily, muttering under his breath," I can't believe I'm doing this…"

At the Aston Martin's questioning look, Leland revved his engine slightly, murmuring,"Eh, McMissile, if I don't come back…well, it's been one hell of a year."

"Leland, what're you—" before Finn could finish his sentence, the Jaguar had rolled out of the shadows, in plain sight of the three Oldsmobiles, MI6 badge displayed proudly on his side, and they instantly began to race towards the club's exit. The sports coupe gunned his engine again, swiftly following them as he busted through the double doors, none of the club's patrons noticing a thing, leaving the Aston Martin shell-shocked and alone.

* * *

Lola had moved on to another song several minutes ago, before driving off stage for a much needed break, smiling widely at the cheers she received once she had finished. Rolling down the ramp and heading towards the bar for a drink, the Cuban singer was confronted by her cousin, the elder Motorama car drawing her away from the patrons, whispering, "there's a gentlecar that wants to speak with ya'," the club owner gestured towards a table in a darker part of the room, where a silvery Aston Martin could be seen, idling behind a table. "I think he's a cop, Lola, so be nice."

Lola's resulting snort was very un-lady like,"'nice' is my middle name, _prima_."

Turning towards the forklift behind the bar, the Cuban Motorama car inquired, "Could you hold a tequila for me, Rico?"

The bartender smirked lightly, "Sure thing, Lola."

Nodding contentedly, the singer began to make her way over to the darker part of the club, stopping a few feet away from the elder car. "You wished to speak with me, _señor_?"She inquired, looking him over. The Aston Martin was sleek, shiny and suave, with a kind (yet still somehow flirty) smile, but a sort of heaviness seemed to hang dimly in his eyes.

The sorrow faded slightly, and the elder car smirked,"I'vd heard that you've been in contact with a 'Mater Private Eye'?"

"Yes," Lola began guardedly, her expression quickly morphing into one of suspicion. The Aston Martin chuckled lowly at the look she sent him.

"Don't worry; I didn't come to exterminate him, or anything of the sort. I simply wished to know if he is, or was, here tonight."

"Oh," the Motorama car started, more than a little surprised, _"Sí, _he's here. At the front of the club actually, with two other cars, a _coche de policía _and a Porsche."

Looking over the elder gentlecar once more, the Cuban couldn't help but chide herself for being so wary. The look in the Aston Martin eyes was one of kindness—minus the heavy sorrow—although warranted as much suspicion as hers had.

He bobbed his hood slightly, glancing up at her with a twinge of appreciation, "Thank you, Miss Motorama."

Taking this as a dismissal, the singer began to head back towards the bar for her drink, only for the Aston Martin to call her, a pang of regret in his voice, "and by the way, my friend was quite a big fan of yours."

Lola hadn't overlooked the fact that he'd used past tense.

* * *

The music had been at a standstill for some time now, the voices of several dozen patrons filling the silence instead. Once again, Mater only paid half-attention to his friends' conversation, the tow truck only adding a nod or comment when he deemed necessary.

Now if only Lola could go back upstage and sing again to quiet the surrounding cars, his night would be perfect.

"Well hello, handsome."

Mater sighed heavily as a familiar metallic body pressed against his side. Spoke to soon….

"What do ya' want, Lola?"

The exotic Motorama car pouted,"Oh, c'mon, Mater, couldn't you at least _pretend_ to be happy to see me?"

The tow truck glanced annoyingly out of the corner of his eye for a moment, watching McQueen and Sally begin to drive away, knowing smirks adorning their grills as they watched him. The private eye groaned inwardly. As soon as this was over, McQueen would never let him live it down…

As soon as the couple was gone, Mater averted is gaze towards the Cuban car beside him, "a'right, why are ya' really here?"

Lola frowned, huffing in annoyance, "there's a car looking for you. _Britaníco. _Didn't give me a name, but he's plenty handsome."

The detective rolled his eyes at the Motorama car's dreamy expression, shaking his cab slightly, "An' where is this mystery car?"

Lola shrugged, "He didn't say. But it must have been something _importante _for him to come to you instead of going to the _policía_."

The Motorama car detached herself from Mater's side, beginning to head towards the stage once more. "Well good luck, Mater!" the Cuban called before her voice was lost in the chorus of applause that she received upon her return.

The tow truck rested low on his axels for a moment, mulling over the information Lola had given him. Over the course of the past few weeks, the Cuban car had become one of Mater's top informants, and would frequently alert him to anything he needed to know—whether it concerned a case or not. And yet, none of his clients spoke to him through his sources…

"Mater Private Eye, I presume?"

"Jist 'Mater's fine," the tow truck said as he turned, nearly coming bumper to bumper with a silvery Aston Martin. "You tha' guy tha's bin lookin' fer me?"

"Indeed," the British car nodded.

"Well, kin ah git yer name?"

"Not now," the silvery car muttered, glancing around the dark club with caution clear in his eyes. "Our location could very well be compromised." The Aston Martin turned to meet the detective's bewildered gaze again. "Is it alright if we meet at your office tomorrow, eight o'clock sharp, to further discuss my…predicament?"

Mater shrugged openly, not having discussed _anything,_ "Sure."

"Very well, thank you for your time, Mater." The British car bowed his hood lightly before turning to drive into a darker part of the club, swiftly disappearing into the shadows. The tow truck watched him leave with raised eyelids, before his friends' voices came to his attention.

"_So_, Mater…"McQueen began, rolling back over to the table with Sally in tow, the Porsche smirking behind him. "How'd it go?"

The detective—fully aware of the fact that his companions hadn't noticed the exchange between him and the nameless Aston Martin, rolled his eyes as his friend waggled his eyelids, "Lola's jist a source."

"Uh huh, a '_source'_," the police car waggled his eyelids again, the Motorama car in questioned singing loud and clear in the background. The Porsche nudged her fiancé, gently reprimanding,"oh, hush! Mater can have lady friend if he wants to. It doesn't mean they're together, or anything of the sort!" the tow truck sent her a grateful look, only for her to add, "But of course, this wasn't a usual incident. When did you start seeing each other, Mater?"

Mater heaved a sigh, explaining slowly and exasperatedly, "we ain't together. Lola's jist a flirt!"

"Of course, buddy," McQueen said disbelievingly, before the subject was dropped—but only for the moment. The couple diverted their attention towards the Cuban car onstage, the cruiser occasionally whispering to his fiancée, and Sally would usually chuckle in response.

Mater rolled his eyes once more at their romantics, and took a long sip from the quart of oil on the table before him. It was going to be a long night…

* * *

_**I finally updated! And for all that want to know, the song Lola was singing is a Carmen Miranda one, called 'I Yi Yi Yi Yi' you should listen to it, it's pretty funny**_

_**And as for the Spanish...**_

_**-prima= cousin**_

_**-señor= sir **_

_**- coche de policía= Police car**_

_**- Britaníco- British**_

_**-importante= important**_

_**- policía= police**_

_**Please review!**_


	4. Hard Boiled

_**Hard Boiled**_

_~Cars characters (c) PIXAR 2006-2011~_

* * *

**_~Downtown Chicago streets, 0750 Hours~_**

The Aston Martin drove steadily down the dank street, various sorts of garbage littering the cracked asphalt. His tires passed close to a flattened oil can, faintly reminded of a hippie a few blocks back, yelling and calling him an "oil-sucking government spy" who'd come to rid the world of his organic fuel. In response, the spy car had swiftly sped past him, now finding himself even further downtown.

Remembering the address he'd looked up only hours before, the Aston Martin was soon confronted by a medium sized, brick motel building, the sign depicting the structure's purpose extinguished, with sunlight glinting off of the rusted metal.

Driving into the old edifice, the spy car was met with a plainly kept lobby, a vacant desk against the wall to his left. Not very tight security, Finn duly noted.

Heading towards a lift at the end of the room, the Aston Martin remained alert, body tense as he rolled into the shaky elevator. He pulled one of the multitudes of levers, the grated doors closing with a clank, and the pulley began to rise with a groan and the creaking of metal. Light from passing floors shone across the spy car's hood and windshield, the lift finally stopping with another audible creak at the third floor, and Finn swiftly exited the unstable elevator, doors closing behind him with another rusted groan, and began to drive down the musty hallway.

Although the Aston Martin had seen much worse places before, much_, much _worse, he admitted with a glance around the unkempt hall—this building seemed to be one of the most rundown. Not that Finn was one to judge or course, but he would've thought a private investigator such as this 'Mater' would prefer better kept facilities. It appeared that he was wrong in the thought.

Driving down the end of the hallway, the spy car was met with two faded double doors, the slightly yellowed glass above him depicting this as the office of "Mater Private Eye".

Knocking promptly, Finn rolled back to await an answer, and was soon met with a familiar accented voice from inside. "Come in!"

Pushing open the doors, the spy car silently rolled into the tow truck's office, faint sunlight seeping through barely-cracked-open blinds and onto the private eye's vintage paint, fedora lowered slightly.

Mater glanced up upon the Aston Martin's entrance, smirking lightly, "Well howdy. Looks like you were purdy serious 'bout comin' at exactly eight o'clock sharp."

"Indeed," the spy car nodded, before lowering his hood slightly."I apologize for not introducing myself earlier," he amended, drawing himself up once more, "Finn McMissile, British Intelligence."

Giving an over exaggerated bow, the tow truck responded, "Tow Mater, average intelligence."

The Aston Martin only smirked in response, "Well, I hardly believe that."

With a shrug and nonchalant grin, the private eye began shifting idly through the newspapers on his desk, "So what kin ah do ya' fer?"

"As luck would have it, I'm looking for a car."

"Well, that don't really narrow things down. Any specifics?" Mater inquired quizzically, shoving an enormous pile of older newspapers into the bin next to his desk, the thick papers falling into the wastebasket with an audible thud.

"Yes," Finn nodded, unperturbed by the truck's aloofness. "She's a younger car, Jaguar, going by the name of Holley Shiftwell."

A proverbial light bulb went off in the back of the private investigator's mind when he heard the name, but he ignored it and continued questioning the Aston Martin, "Any relation?"

A pause. "….she was my partner."

Mater swiftly caught the underlying sentiment but didn't comment on it, instead asking, "And when did she disappear?"

"Three weeks ago," the spy car answered promptly, gaze beginning to wonder around the room. "We were investigating a possible oil scandal when she went undercover. I haven't heard from her since."

The tow truck raised an eye ridge, "Tell me 'bout this 'oil scandal' a' yers."

"Ah, yes," The spy car nodded in realization, turning back towards the private eye." Several gang members—otherwise known as gangsters—from all over have been meeting in the heart of Chicago. 'Big D' and a few others from New York, several from Britain, France, and Italy, even Al Carone supposedly. All big-shot gangsters, mind you, who have been evading the police's detection—and ours, much to my chagrin—for months now. And we believe that they're after oil; Dinoco oil, so be specific."

"Is Tex one of 'em?" Mater queried, highly doubting that the easy-going Texan Cadillac would have anything to do with the mafia all the way in Chicago.

Finn swiftly corrected him, "Not at all. But he's going to be in the city in only a few days, along with his rival, Miles Axelrod, who created a clean, alternative fuel that could possibly replace gasoline. Miss Shiftwell and I believed that the gang members were going to attempt to threaten him, or even both of them, perhaps an assassination in mind as well, in order to obtain the Dinoco Oil Company and Allinol. I'm sure that you're well aware of the price of such companies and how much they'd make out of it, correct?"

"More than I'll ever be able ta' afford, tha's fer sure."

"Quite right," the Aston Martin smirked, before quickly sobering. "And if those companies fell into those car's tire treads, well—they'd become wealthier than the Queen of England and the president of the United States combined."

"Well…tha's not good," Mater mused obviously, brow furrowing as he stared his newspapers down, as if blaming them for his current position.

"Not in the least. And I don't even want to imagine what Al Carone would do with that much wealth and power…"

There was a brief moment of silence, only filled by the flipping and shuffling of papers. With a sudden creak, the tow truck drew himself up, an excited grin adorning his grill, "Well then, what're we waitin' fer? I ain't had a case this interestin' in weeks!"

* * *

Lieutenant Lightning McQueen wasn't the kind of car anyone would expect to worry about anything.

He was one of the top lieutenants of the Chicago Police Department (CPD for short) and wore his silver/black paint with pride. There were only a few cars that had the ability to refuse his orders, two of them being the sheriff—simply known as Sheriff, and the late chief of police, otherwise referred to as "Doc".

And sure, the young police car did pass a worried thought or two concerning his fiancée, the light blue Porsche always casting away his concern. In lieu of this, Lightning usually worried even more. But even so, when Sally was safe at home (or better yet at the station); Lightning was swiftly put at ease by calling her every other hour when he was on patrol, if only to hear her voice.

This moment was nothing like that.

And of course, the young police car believed in Mater a hundred percent, and would always have his back, so to speak, but the tow truck truly didn't even put his own safety into account during his cases. Lightning had witnessed the private eye nearly drag himself back into his office more times than he could count, horribly bruised and battered, yet acting as if the entire excursion had been nothing more than a drive in the park. Looking back on the Big D case, if the police car hadn't arrived in time (having known most of the tow truck's sources already) Mater would've been quite literally "sleeping with the fishes". And he didn't even care.

Sally and Lightning both deftly hoped that their mutual friend would find a girl soon, someone he could _finally _settle down with, and that she would be able to knock some sense into him. But Mater pushed away all those that tried to get close to him, apart from his few friends.

Since the incident back at the police academy years ago, Mater hadn't even given the most stunning of women a passing glance. The loss of Officer Doreen had struck the tow truck to his core, promptly dropping out of the police academy to become a private eye, and as a result, find the young truck's killer.

Mater had no such luck.

And so, years passed and Lightning lost nearly all contact with his friend, until he became deputy and met with a supposed "Private Eye" concerning an enormous bank robbery. You could imagine his surprise when he found the investigator to be none other than the tow truck. But by then, Mater had changed.

Gone was the laid-back personality and round-about carefree attitude. He'd turned into a sharp private eye, like the ones McQueen used to watch on television as a child—and still did—hard-boiled and with an excellent wit. And the tow truck all but dropped the semblance of concern when he worked on his cases, and so the police car was forced to worry for him.

But the apprehension he usually felt around his friend only grew when he spotted the private eye leaving his shabby office building (Lightning having been on his way there to speak with the tow truck), followed by a silvery Aston Martin as they headed towards a far more dangerous part of town.

McQueen sighed as he watched them leave. He could only imagine what kind of danger Mater had gotten himself involved with this time.


	5. Meet 'n Greet

_**Meet n' Greet**_

_~Cars ©PIXAR~_

_**A/N: Geez…finally an update after nearly…four months? Hehe…sorry :T**_

_**Special thanks to Netbug009 and everyone else who stayed with me on this story! I promise that I will try to update again soon. For now, here is an especially long chapter! :) Enjoy, and review please!**_

* * *

**_~Outside Carlton Casino, 0010 Hours~_**

The downtown streets were mostly empty, only a car or two traversing the dimly lit road. A large brightly lit building stood just ahead, dubbed the Carlton Casino, where the sound of music and slot machines could be heard through the thick walls and windows, comingling with echo of smashing glass and shouts resonating through the night. In a dark alley across the way, two cars hid in the shadows. One was a silvery Aston Martin; gaze keenly locked on the casino, and the other a larger tow truck, fedora dipped lowly over his windshield, shuffling his tires.

"So…I'm goin' in alone, right?" Mater queried, raising his gaze as he spoke, as if making sure. The spy car alongside him nodded in affirmation.

"I can only assume that most of the cars present will recognize me. So yes, you will be going in alone, Mater."

The tow truck raised a furtive eyelid, "is this a kind a' friendly recognizin', or the bad kind?"

"The kind in which they are more likely to shoot me on sight rather than offer me tea and biscuits."

"Ah."

"Anyway," Finn continued. "I will be waiting at the Chevrolet Hotel, five blocks down if you are in need of any assistance."

The private eye began to bob his hood in understanding before he paused, "do tha' cops know 'bout the whole 'oil conspire-acy'?"

Finn snorted, "I hate to tell you this, Mater, but the justice system in this city is sorely lacking. The bobbies here are rather incompetent."

"Not all of 'em," the private eye muttered defensively, having stopped his shuffling."McQueen's a purdy good cop. Helped me on the Big D case."

The Aston Martin shrugged absentmindedly, gaze shifting back to the bright casino, "Friendships can be rather dangerous in our line of work." Mater frowned as his companion saw through his thinly veiled defense. "Now hurry," Finn muttered, seeming to become increasingly agitated.

"Ah'm goin, Ah'm goin," the tow truck grumbled, before slipping on his more "professional" façade, and rolling towards the casino unemotionally.

The double doors pushed open easily enough, and the private eye was greeted with intense shouts, thuds and all-around noise in general. Casually driving past the faded slot machines and certifiable gangsters, Mater rolled over to the bar where a few forklifts were serving drinks behind the counter.

There was a large group of cars beside him—two lemons, a Trunkov and Gremlin, along with two darker, older model cars, a Delahaye 135, and Chrysler CL Custom Imperial. Lastly, a jet black Jaguar idled within the group, chatting, as the formers drank and laughed, cigars hanging out of most of their mouths.

Mater held back a cough once he accidentally breathed in the smoke, instead turning towards the bartender, gaze never leaving the group. "You want somethin'?" the forklift inquired, handing two others cars a bottle of bourbon to accompany their glasses.

"Yeah," the tow truck affirmed, rolling closer. "Information."

The bartender's eyes widened slightly, but after a moment of nervous glances, beckoned him closer. "You a cop?" he queried suspiciously, an eyelid raised. Mater smirked in response.

"Sorta."

The forklift sighed heavily, before jerking his roof further down the counter. Mater followed, stopping a good ten feet away from the group.

"So whadaya want ta' know?" the bartender demanded, beginning to pick up some dirty glasses and cleaning them with a rag, if only to have something to do.

"Who're those fellas?" the private eye inquired, cocking his hood in the direction of the large group of cars. The forklift shifted his nervous gaze towards the aforementioned group, the rag on his lifter scrubbing roughly against the glass.

"Those are some of the mafia family heads. J. Curby Gremlin—"he paused to glance towards the maroon colored Lemon "—head of the Gremlin family, from Detroit, then Vladimir Trunkov, of the Trunkov line. Not sure where he comes from." The teal lemon bellowed loudly, chortling boisterously along with his fellows, and the bartender's expression grew increasingly anxious, but at the tow truck's intense gaze he continued. "Both lemons have dozens of cars at their disposal. The Chrysler's Kenny Flattire and the Delahaye is Tony Windell—Flattire's from New York, and he's Big D's brother."

"Big D, ya say?" Mater queried in surprise, an eyelid raised.

"Yep. They've both got tons of guys workin' for 'em. Flattire got all a' his brother's men."

"And why're they all here?"

The forklift shrugged, "_that_ I don't know. But they aren't the only ones here by far. Tons of guys are comin' to Chicago—the _big _guys. Al Carone himself was even here a couple hours ago."

Mater nodded grimly as the information sunk in, but his hood rose just as fast, "and 'er?" the bartender turned to see where the truck was pointing, his gaze landing on the beautiful black car.

"Uh….I'm not sure," he started, an eyelid raised as he turned back towards the private investigator. "She's been hanging 'round 'em for a while now, though."

"Okay," Mater nodded, his expression becoming rather absentminded. He bobbed his hood in thanks. "Thank ya fer yer time."

"Er, you're welcome."

The tow truck began to make his way towards the black car, swiping a drink from the counter. But before the bartender could utter a single protest, he laid eyes on the money lying in the drink's place, instead frowning as he took the offered cash.

Taking his glass to a nearby table, the private eye took a tentative sip of the scotch, a disgusted look instantly crossing his features, but he forced himself to swallow after a few moments. Sighing in exasperation, the tow truck pushed the drink away with his tire and a grimace, directing his gaze towards the group of cars once more.

Mater waited until the British car had driven off a bit from the pack, before casually cruising over to her. She had yet to notice his sudden and close proximity, and the tow truck made his presence known by asking (loud enough for the gangsters a few feet away to hear). "Eh, you ever heard of a "Holley Shiftwell"?"

The glare he received through her netted veil could have easily seared iron. The group alongside the woman regarded the private eye suspiciously, and the Jaguar shook her hood rather forcefully, "I cannot zay that I have, _monsieur_," she answered through slightly gritted teeth, although spoke with a noticeable French accent.

The Chrysler—Kenny Flattire—rode over then, narrowed gaze directed towards the private investigator,"hey, Lace, this guy buggin' you?"

The Jaguar, supposedly known as Lace, shook her hood, noting how the tow truck bristled upon the older model's words, "no, Tony, I am quite fine. The _monsieur _here waz merely asking me a zimple question."

"Yup," Mater nodded quickly. "An' Ah'll jist be goin' now."

With a sudden rev of the engine, the tow truck abruptly reversed out of the casino, doors banging shut after his abrupt departure.

* * *

Mater idled near the casino, shrouded in the same alley as previously. He observed the cars slowly driving down the street, some weakened and beaten, while others looked as if they'd (quite literally) won the lottery, and most likely had. Others were rather tipsy, and the tow truck could smell the stench of alcohol even from his position several dozen feet away, and he drove further into the shadows.

Once the cars had all driven by, the private investigator rolled forward slightly, glancing impatiently down the empty road. She should've been there already….

There was the sudden screech of tires, and the tow truck was suddenly shoved into the wall— and despite the sudden ache running through his side, Mater smirked. _Just in time_.

"Are you out of your blooming mind?" the Jaguar hissed, glowering through her veil. "Were you _trying_ to blow my cover?"

The private eye's easy smirk only grew wider, still pinned against the wall, and glanced at the spy car out of the corner of his eye. "Not really. But it gotcha out here, didn't it?"

The Jaguar muttered under her breath in response, rolling back to release him. Mater appraised his new dents silently, lower lip jutting out slightly, "well tha's a keeper…."

"Who are you?" Holley inquired suspiciously, braking quietly, her French accent replaced with a far more comfortable British one.

"Mater Private Eye, ma'am," the tow truck answered, finally looking up to lock eyes with the Jaguar. And froze.

Holley's level gaze met his easily, regarding him coolly with only a few traces of the annoyance she'd displayed previously, though her eyes were partially hidden by her netted veil. Her lips were full and drawn in a thin, but soft line, and her expression reigned an amount of all-around maturity that Mater had yet to (and never would) achieve.

And she was absolutely stunning.

Mater swiftly bit back a "yer purdy" before it could make its way past his lips. This was no time for his hillbilly personality to shine through, especially after so long. "Mizz Shiftwell?" he inquired after a moment, fighting to maintain his rigid and unemotional expression.

"Holley's fine," the Jaguar quickly corrected, smirking lightly. "So, you're here because….?"

The tow truck startled,"Ah, yeah, right." Rapidly reverting to what the private eye hoped was a professional manner, he answered,"Yer partner's been lookin' fer ya."

"Finn?"

Mater felt himself flinch internally and his engine clench at Holley's surprised—yet obviously elated—expression upon this revelation. After a second of self-pity, Mater continued,"Yep. He said that he lost contact wit' ya over three weeks ago."

The Jaguar snorted, shaking her hood lightly, "Only Finn would worry if I went MIA for three blooming weeks. I was undercover"—the spy car paused to cast the private eye an annoyed look—"as you could plainly see." Holley scoffed again, "Finn's just a paranoid old git—he considers it his job to look out for me."

Shaking his hood, the tow truck attempted to clear his mind, purposely glancing towards the city street beyond the alley's entrance, and away from Holley, before speaking again, "So what's the dirt on this whole oil scandal a' yers?"

"Finn told you about that?" the Jaguar startled, and Mater turned towards her to answer, immediately regretting the action once he became hot under the hood once more.

"Yup. Ah'm 'parently on board wit' ya."

"Lovely."

The tow truck heard her mutter something about "having to work with foolish tow trucks" and smirked. He was long used to criticism.

"So, "_Lace_", eh?" the private eye inquired coyly, raising an eyelid impishly. Holley frowned.

"It was a _nom de guerre_ ," the Jaguar remarked snippily, before quickly diverting her attention to the street, as to assure that their conversation hadn't come to anyone's direct attention, turning back towards the tow truck soon after. "So what do you know?"

Mater only smirked once more,"Ah believe that Ah jist asked ya the same thing." Holley sighed irritably before answering.

"I can't say now. Our position could be compromised."

The private investigator raised a curious eye ridge, "So….?"

Another sigh. "_So _we need to find somewhere more private."

"Where'd ya have in mind?" a slightly amused smile adorned the tow truck's grill, and he rolled forward slightly, Holley only rolling her eyes.

"I'm assuming that Finn stayed in a hotel somewhere, so I suppose that we'll go there," the Jaguar rode out of the alley then, stopping a few feet away under a dimly lit streetlamp, casting a glow over her dark paint as a perplexed look crossed her features. To Mater's utmost amusement, she turned back to him with a trace of a blush tainting her cheeks.

"Er….I just realized that I don't know where to go…"

Mater grinned widely, nearly springing out of the alley before landing on the cobblestone road, "well don'tchu worry!" the tow truck assured, surprising even himself at his sudden (and rather uncharacteristic) behavior. "No one knows the Windy City better 'n Tow Mater!"

* * *

_**~Ouskirts of downtown Chicago, 0145 Hours~**_

Humming a French tune to himself, Finn McMissile strolled casually down the dismal Chicago street, puddles of water littering the ground in waylaid patterns from a recent rainfall. A heavy fog hung in the air, though it did little to quell the British car's rather upbeat persona. The buildings on either side seemed to be leering over him almost forebodingly, colored a bleak grey by the moon's reflection.

His hood tinted bright silver by the soft moonlight, the Aston Martin continued on his way, humming slowly diminishing as the sound of voices reached him, echoing through the empty street. The spy car's initial response was to pause, gears tensing, as if trying to place the voices. When his mind came up blank, Finn instantly reversed into the nearest alleyway, facing the street and shrouded by darkness.

Two cars drove out of the gloom, their models almost indistinguishable by the darkness. Both were male, and by the smooth purring of one of their engines, and the rather awful sputtering of the other, Finn could deduce the one was of higher authority and model then the other. The pair paused, idling beneath the light of a streetlamp, finally giving the spy car a better vantage point.

One was indeed a lemon, Gremlin to be exact, while the other was a much older model, but still in prime condition. The latter of the two spoke.

"So the plan is still on schedule?"

The Gremlin—painted a dusty brownish orange—nodded in response, "Yes, sir. There was a little…hiccup, earlier this week with a British agent, but he's been….taken care of."

"Good, good," the older model, now determined to be an Auburn Speedster 851, nodded, pausing to glance around the shadowy road for an instant before returning to the conversation, and turning back towards the dusty orange lemon. "And what of the other spy? Finn McMissile?"

The spy car in question tensed, firearms already popped out of his fenders, faltering when his name was mentioned. The Gremlin raised an eye ridge, "What of him, sir?"

"These spies never come alone. With McMissile still on the loose, he'll be able to recruit others to assist him."

The lemon bobbed his hood once more, "We'll do our best, sir. The Professor is pushing us all to our hardest."

The Aston Martin, having laid in wait for any more useful information, began to slowly prep his guns. But before he could even think of pulling the trigger a voice suddenly came over the communicator.

"_Ksst…eh, Finn, Ah found 'er—on route to hotel."_

Far from joyous at the sudden interruption, the spy car cursed lowly under his breath as the feedback brought the two cars across from him to attention, now surveying the surrounding darkness warily.

"_Ksst…Finn—"_

"Alright, I'll meet you at the rally point, Mater," the Aston Martin interrupted, shutting his communicator off right after, cursing himself for having forgotten to deactivate it in the first place.

"Did you hear that?" the Auburn muttered, beginning to drive towards the alley, the Gremlin only a few feet behind him.

His location compromised, Finn released his grapples, hooking onto the roof of a nearby building, and lifting himself high above the ground. By the time the old model car had entered the alley fully, it was completely empty.

* * *

_**~Fifteen blocks away from the Chevrolet Hotel, 0230 Hours~**_

"I can't believe you've gotten us lost."

"We're not lost," Mater defended, keeping his eyes glued to the buildings and street signs. "Ah jist…misplaced the hotel address…"

"Of course," Holley snorted derisively, the tow truck sending her a defensive look.

"Hey, it's not like _you_ know how ta' git there," he snapped, engine revving ever-so-slightly in his growing annoyance. He sent the Jaguar an aggravated glance through his rearview mirror, shifting his gaze back towards the street after a moment. He didn't know why the British car raised his ire so, and he didn't bother questioning it.

"Well, I'm not the one who asked for directions from a garbage truck."

"Eh, don't disrespect Stinky! He's a good source!"

"My my, you've just met and you're already acting like an old married couple."

The two bickering cars turned simultaneously at the sudden voice, laying eyes on the Aston Martin idling beneath the glow of a streetlamp, amused smirk adorning his grill as he surveyed the pair. "Finn," the younger spy car greeted in a rather clipped tone, staring her partner down for a moment.

The elder car bowed lightly, "I thank you for gracing us with your presence, Miss Shiftwell."

"Oh please," Holley scoffed, although good naturally. "You were worried about me this entire time, you old git."

Finn snorted, raising his hood and muttered under his breath, "Well I sorely beg to differ." Turning his attention towards the private eye, he nodded once more. "Thank you for your infallible assistance, Mater. I'm terribly sorry for roping you into this entire ordeal."

"Eh, it ain't nothin'," the tow truck shrugged nonchalantly. "But if ya don't need me for tha' rest o' the night, Ah thought Ah'd retire for tha' rest of the evenin' that Ah've got left." Mater had hardly driven forward three feet when the elder spy car stopped him.

"Actually, Mater, I was wondering if you could show Miss Shiftwell to her motel? I have some unfinished business to take care of and I would hate for something to happen to her."

The private eye winced. "Uh...sure."

* * *

"How did Finn ever get a hold of you?"

Mater groaned, not even making an attempt at hiding his displeasure. "Ah reckon he jist heard 'bout me. Ah may not be all that famous, but cars know me for the Big D case."

"And what exactly happened on that mission?" Holley inquired. The tow truck sent her a rather annoyed look out of the corner of his eye.

"What is this, twenty questions? Ah feel like Ah'm bein' interrogated…"

Holley seemed to blush, embarrassed. "My apologies. I suppose that there is such a thing as being _too _trained."

Mater huffed but said nothing. After a few minutes, the Jaguar sped up so that she was at the private eye's side. "I just couldn't help thinking about how an ordinary tow truck like you became mixed up in all of this." Holley winced instantly, thinking the tow truck would take offense to her blunt question. But much to her respite and surprise, he grinned. In fact, his entire demeanor seemed to brighten.

"Aw, shoot. Ah was hopin' you'd ask," he chuckled, swinging is cab like an eager child for a moment. "Ah seem to be a sorta…trouble magnet. Ah've gotten caught up in so many shady cases, that Ah can't tell 'em from real life anymore. An' Ah honestly have fun."

The British car blinked. "Well, I never would've thought—"she was abruptly shushed. Looking back at Mater, Holley saw that he had braked, engine humming, and eyes sharp. In the short time she had known him, she'd never seen him so attentive. "What is it?"She whispered, and was promptly silenced with a slicing motion by Mater's tire. He had his hood cocked, as if listening for something.

Holley paused, before straining her ears – _she_ was the spy, and _she_ should've been the one to detect whatever Mater had. But at first all she heard was the wind, whipping through the aptly named Windy City, ghostly and foreboding. But then she listened harder – there was a train in the distance; she could hear the echo as it clacked over the track, and traffic even father off. But closer to their location, there was the thrumming of another engine.

"C'mon," Mater muttered, starting off again. Holley glanced further down the street, where the sound was coming from, and which was wholly encompassed by a thick fog. She followed a few seconds later. "We bin followed," the tow truck continued. His eyes were narrowed, shadowed by his fedora and all traces of past humor having long since faded from his features. His eyes continued to flicker down the road and back.

"Maybe it's just a random civilian?" Holley suggested slowly.

Mater rolled his eyes,"Yep. Takin' a stroll at three 'n the mornin'."

The Jaguar was silent. A moment passed, the humming mystery engine growing a fraction louder. "Call Finn," the tow truck commanded abruptly. Holley followed orders without question.

Her communicator beeped before fully activating. "Finn?" she said, trying to keep her voice from wavering.

The Aston Martin instantly heard her worry. "_What's the matter, Miss Shiftwell?"_

Holley smiled slightly at her partner's over-protectiveness. "We're still on our way to the motel, but Mater believes we're being followed."

"_Have they shown themselves?"_ Finn questioned, apparently trusting the tow truck's judgment.

"Not so far, sir."

The elder car paused on the other line. _"Alright, Holley." _The Jaguar was stunned by the use of her first name. "_I'm not sure who is tailing you, but if my hunch is correct, he will do you no harm. However, there is a very large chance that I am wrong. So, please ask Mister Tow Mater if you can stay the night with him."_

Holley paled, and Mater balked, having obviously overheard. Ignoring the tow truck's incredulous sputtering, the Jaguar choked,"Um, Finn, I'm not sure that's the best idea…"

"You have no other choice, Miss Shiftwell," Finn stated simply. "_I won't risk either of your lives because of petty squabbles and discomfiture. Now please, __**get out of that street**__ and into a building, lest I'm proven wrong."_

* * *

_**~Mater's downtown office, 0300 Hours~**_

"Erm…Mater?"

Holley poked her hood around a corner, receiving no answer yet again.

She and the tow truck had arrived at his rather decrepit abode little over half an hour ago, and once she had been led to the guest room, Mater had departed, and the British car had yet to find him since. And this was the third room she'd looked into—how many more could there be? Finally, at the end of the hall, she came across a pair of double doors, the glass yellowed, but clearly stating _Mater Private Eye _in peeling letters.

Gathering her remaining gumption and fighting off the intense need of sleep, the Jaguar carefully pushed the doors open.

Inside was everything she'd expected to see in a detective's office. Blinded windows, slivers of feeble light barely making their way through, every piece of furniture buried under newspapers, empty oil cans, and every piece of miscellaneous item you could think off. There was a large thumb tacked board against one wall, covered in hundreds upon hundreds of newspaper clippings and photos. Hanging from a thin string along the window, a few photographs were hung to dry.

And in corner of the room, there sat an enormous oak desk, behind which Mater sat, snoring, fedora askew. Holley bit back her laughter, noting how…vulnerable the hard-boiled private eye looked while asleep.

Chuckling, the Jaguar continued to survey the room. Her gaze flittered over the desk, when a framed photograph caught her attention, slightly tilted and buried beneath an enormous stack of newspapers. Eyes flickering to the sleeping tow truck and back to the frame, Holley carefully brought up a tire. Mater shifted in his sleep, and the spy winced. But the tow truck only moved to find a better position and continued snoring noisily. Holley released a breath, continuing to reach. The last thing she needed was he private eye catching her snooping and disliking her even more…

The spy car managed to grab the frame from under the newspapers and slowly dislodged it. Bringing it to hood-level, she was met with a faded photograph of a female car. A Chevrolet El Camino, quite pretty, with light paint and bright eyes smiled softly back at her. She turned the frame over, looking for a name, or a date. Something that could label this unknown car. But it was blank. About to place the photo back on the desk, Holley faltered. Her scanner was out before she could stop herself, inspecting the image, and downloading the photo into her memory banks.

As feeling of guilt beginning to needle its way through, Holley put the frame back, and quickly drove out Mater's private office.


	6. City Slicker

_**City Slicker**_

_~Cars ©PIXAR~_

* * *

_**~Chicagoan streets 0330 Hours~**_

The fog was thick, but Finn managed to maneuver through it easily, humming the same French tune from earlier that night. The buildings around him were practically invisible behind the wall of chilled vapor, and less than a block away he could hear the lapping of water over by the docks. A foghorn bellowed in the distance.

Fog lights activated, the spy car observed his surroundings—or what he could see of them. His humming echoed forlornly through the street, bouncing back in a rather portentous fashion. The night sky was only partially hidden above him, the stars wholly obscured by smog and other chemicals in the atmosphere. Despite it all, it smelled like imminent rainfall.

Finn finally reached the alley he was seeking, and the beeping of his internal computer silenced at the same time his humming did. A figure could be made out in the shadows of the lane.

The Aston Martin broke the tense silence with an easygoing smile. "Well, it's been a while since we met. How have you been, old friend?" The stranger didn't answer or react to having even heard him. "Hm...Still refusing to speak, I see," Finn contemplated. "Well, I only wished to thank you for looking out for my partner and the private eye. You didn't have to."

The figure shifted their tires, as if embarrassed. Finn smirked. "You know, there's no need for you to hide any longer."

The stranger froze again, stonily silent.

Finn sighed. "You know that it's true. Yet you continue to act otherwise." The distinguishably smaller car prepared to back out of the opposite side of the alley, when the Aston Martin's next words stopped him. "You could go home. I know that you are well aware of that more than anything else. There may not be anyone there waiting for you, but it'll be better than hiding in shadows for the remainder of your life."

The figure shuffled his tires again, uncertain. He still didn't speak.

The spy car heaved a sigh. "You always try to make things difficult, don't you?"

A chuckle. The mystery car's cab shook lightly, containing the laughter. Finn blinked momentarily, before allowing a smile, and finally laughing along with the stranger. A moment later, he exhaled heavily again.

"So this is it, old friend? You intend to go about your life in shadows still, never speaking nor showing yourself?" The smaller car remained stony again, and Finn slowly shook his front end, eyes downcast. "Well have it your way."

The Aston Martin prepared to turn, and drive back to his comfortable hotel room, but he paused, glancing back. "I bid you _adieu_, old friend….I hope that we meet again. And you owe me nothing for the rescue from Morocco."

* * *

~_**Mater's Downtown Office, 0930 Hours~**_

"Hello, Mater?"

Lieutenant Lightning McQueen peeked out of the creaking lift, trained eyes scanning over the hallway. It seemed to quiet….usually, the police car would hear the tow truck's loud mutterings, the voice of a new client, or the radio turned to the oldies station when Mater thought he wouldn't drop by. And currently, not a single one of those sounds filled the hall.

The cruiser cautiously crept out of the elevator, its over-all unsteadiness no longer worrying him. There were no signs of a struggle, he noted, and everything was still in the same place as before, from the pristine, faded and threadbare rugs, to the dried and withered plants along the window sills.

He finally reached the double doors that led into his friend's office. Resisting the urge to swallow, Lightning pushed them open. He was met with the tow truck at his desk, as per redundancy, looking over photos, files and his daily newspaper. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, bud," Mater greeted without looking up, appearing rather oblivious to his best friend's past fear.

The lieutenant grinned at the private eye's familiar and calm salutation, rolling further into the room. "Hi, Mater. Um, I was wonderin', I saw you leaving the building yesterday, and I thought—"an unfamiliar, but noticeably _female_ voice interrupted him from behind.

"Ah, Mater, I meant to ask—oh! Pardon me."

Lightning swiftly reversed and turned to see a pretty and curvy Jaguar looking back at him with equally stunned eyes. She paused in the doorway, now hesitant. "Um, Mater," she began in a soft British accent. "Who is this?"

The tow truck still hadn't even looked up. "McQueen, Miss Shiftwell. Miss Shiftwell, McQueen," he introduced absently.

The Jaguar, or Miss Shiftwell apparently, furrowed her brow, her confusion only growing further. But Lightning had begun to grow a sly grin across his bumper, not even bothering to properly announce himself and his appellation correctly. He was solely focused on the fact that Mater was moderately docile for once, and had a _woman_ (and a very beautiful one at that), _with him. In his home. _

"Don't even think 'bout it, Lightnin'," Mater interrupted, before the lieutenant could voice his thought, eyes never leaving his newspapers. "She's…a client. Nutin' more."

The cruiser rolled his eyes, but backed down. "Alright, alright. But you do know that Sally's never going to let you live this down."

"Who says she gunna find out?"

Holley watched in mild amusement at the friends' exchange, before returning to the task at hand. "Mater?" she repeated after a moment, drawing the tow truck from his imminent quarrel. "We have to go meet Finn, remember? There was something that he needed us to attend to."

"Oh, yeah," the private eye realized, rising on his axles. He drove around his desk and turned to the cruiser. "Sorry, bud. Duty calls."

"Wait, Mater!" Lightning called after a moment, the tow truck stopping in the doorway. "What have you gotten yourself into now?" the police car continued solicitously.

Mater shrugged. "Ain't nutin' fer ya ta' worry 'bout. Miss Shiftwell 'n Ah 'ave got it under control."

"Yeah, but Mater—"

"We've gotta go, McQueen," Mater reminded, shifting a tire. "Ah'll um…gitta hold a' ya once this is over." The tow truck quickly drove out of the room with a final glance to his best friend, and Holley paused uncertainly before following after him.

As the doors closed behind them, Lightning sighed, lowering on his shocks. His gaze flickered over to the private eye's desk, where a picture frame lay atop the mountain of newspapers, a familiar Chevrolet smiling back at him.

A heave of air escaped him, and he looked heavenward. "What're we going to do with him, Doreen?"

* * *

_**~Across from the Radiator Valve Resort, downtown Chicago, 1000 Hours~**_

"A stakeout. That was the big emergency Finn called us for," Mater grumbled, scuffing a tire into the carpet. "An' here Ah was expectin' something excitin'."

Holley sighed, but failed to keep the amused smile off of her bumper at the private eye's childish pout. "It can be a bit tiresome, but it is required for a mission such as this."

Mater groaned. "But why're we's in the buildin' '_cross_ from the hotel Axlerod 'n Tex are gunna git ta'?"

Her patience thinning slightly, the Jaguar said, _"Because_, that is the purpose of our job. We aren't supposed to be seen—technically, we don't even exist. This was the best vantage point available. Now_ please_, watch the entrance."

The private eye sent her what could've almost passed for a dirty look, only for the fire in his eyes to die a few seconds later and he decided to sulk. He turned to look out of the long, tinted windows in front of them a moment later, resigned.

Holley had opened her holo-screen by then, pouring over pages and files of information, surveillance videos of the hotel across the street, and both criminal and subject profiles. She knew that it was more technologically advanced than Mater had ever seen, but the tow truck pointedly avoided her gaze. The spy's mind eventually began to wander (but she wasn't about to admit that the tow truck had been right in saying stakeouts were the least exciting thing she'd experienced in quite some time), focusing instead on the picture stored in her memory banks. Holley would've retrieved it if it wouldn't attract the private eye's unwanted attention. So she resorted to using her own, sharp recollection.

She remembered that something had been behind the Chevrolet—as she wouldn't be able to search her background without pulling up the image—a logo perhaps. But without the photo, her musing would prove useless. Although she did know one thing—whoever was in the photo was close to Mater. Perhaps even that handsome lieutenant knew…..

"Not that it is any of my business, Mater, but why were you so austere towards Lieutenant Lightning McQueen?"

The tow truck blinked once, shifting his bewildered gaze towards the Jaguar. "How'd ya' git his full name?" he questioned, instead of answering.

"I searched his profile," Holley admitted.

"'course," Mater grumbled, looking back out the window.

"You didn't answer my question," the Jaguar stated matter-of-factly. Her temporary partner exhaled deeply, eyes falling to his hood.

"McQueen 'n Ah 'ave known each other fer years," Mater finally said, his fedora tipping lightly over his windshield, observing the faint sunlight that reflected off of his vintage paint. "He's mah best friend."

Holley nodded softly, "I saw that you two went to the police academy together….but only _he_ graduated." She sent the private eye a meaningful glance. His brow furrowed.

"Ah know whatcha' thinkin'. An' no, Ah wasn't kicked out…Ah left."

The Jaguar startled, "You l-left? But you could've become Captain, or even the Deputy Chief of Police with your smarts! I mean, why would you ever…." Holley gradually trailed off as she noticed Mater's narrowed gaze, directed out the window again, as if he was trying to burn a hole through the glass. There was a definite pain underlying the anger radiating off of him. "Why…_did_ you leave?" she asked after a moment, calmer.

Mater remained silent for a few tense seconds more, before he sighed heavily again, cab sagging. "Sometimes…there are…complications, and circumstances tha' we can't 'void or stop….and we jist hafta' keep movin' forward. Even if it means leavin' some things behind."

And then there was silence.

Holley had the nagging feeling that all of this had to do with the picture of the Chevrolet, but she knew that bringing it out now would be disastrous. There was no way she could ever ask Mater about it…there was the chance that he could quit the mission, as he had been given the chance before, and they would lose the best private investigator in the state, and the one that knew of every seedy tavern and filthy corner that criminals hid themselves… and… he was starting to grow on her.

So there was nothing more to do than remain quiet.

* * *

_**~ Chicago International Airport, 1030 Hours~**_

"My my, lovely day in the Windy City, ain't it, Sir Axlerod?"

The Range Rover sent his rival an appraising glance before smiling. "Indeed, Mr. Tex," he agreed proudly, rolling down the ramp from the large luxury airplane. He met the Cadillac at ground level. "What time did you arrive though?"

Tex Dinoco grinned brightly beneath his horn hood ornament. "Arrived at nine 'n the mornin', Miles. Couldn't wait to leave and get this presentation over with."

"My thoughts exactly," Sir Axlerod affirmed, driving forward. The Texan followed, their entourage of bodyguards lingering around them.

"So you've given up the ridiculous folly of havin' some sorta' "Grand Prix" to show off yer fuel, haven't ya?" Tex inquired curiously at the Range Rover's side. He didn't notice Miles grounding his teeth before answering.

"Yes. This "folly" of mine has been long put to bed. I only wish to lean the presentation in my favor by honest means."

The Cadillac nodded approvingly. "Good ta' here, son. Honesty's the best policy, after all." As the elder car chuckled at his quip, Sir Axlerod rolled his eyes irately. He very nearly sighed in relief when they entered the large main building where they would meet the rest of their escorts. Miles turned towards their current bodyguards.

"I believe that will be all, chaps. We can take it from here."

The Range Rover's guards complied immediately, but those of Tex Dinoco were more hesitant. With a meaningful glance from Sir Axlerod, Tex nodded as well. "It's fine. Go 'bout yer business 'till we meet at the hotel." The bulky bodyguards nodded, still uncertain, before driving away. Miles followed them with his clear eyes for a few seconds before driving further into the structure, the elder car at his side having continued speaking.

"—honestly, as if I can't take care of myself! I may be old, but I'm not 'bout to be recalled just yet! It's not as if I'll be assassinated in the next five minutes, especially after the War ended."

Miles couldn't keep the haughty grin was his features anymore. "Quite right, Mr. Dinoco," he assured, and in the darkness of the great room, cars of all models began to surround them, stances menacing. "Kidnapping is much more our style."

* * *

_**~Lobby of the Radiator Valve Resort, 1100 Hours~**_

The lieutenant noted that his menacing front was normally quite the opposite.

He could instill fear in criminals like no other, of course—everyone knew of the various exploits of Lieutenant Lightning McQueen, all the drug lords he'd revealed, the crimes he'd busted, and the multitudes of villains he'd caught that had led to him receiving his current position. But apparently, this was limited to hotel concierges, who had never heard of him, and thus had no respect for him. Lightning was forced to pull out his badge for the snippy Kurtis Bonneville, before rolling further into the resort. On the other side of the room, was his target. The silvery Aston Martin.

"_Ksst…ciao, McQueen!"_

The lieutenant jumped, and hid behind a group of tourists when the sound caught the British car's attention. Cursing lightly under his breath, he activated his radio. "Damn, Formula One. What do what, Francesco?" Lightning demanded crossly, peering around the crowd to make sure the Aston Martin hadn't left.

The Italian car gasped, as if the comment had been a physical blow. _"Ksst_…_Why,_ _can't a car call his amico?_"

Lightning's brow furrowed, gaze remaining on the British car across from him. "I wouldn't really call us friends, Sergeant."

Francesco huffed on the other line. "_Ksst_…_Do not-a bring rank to this, McQueen. Sheriff has been-a pestering me about your whereabouts for the past-a two days. If you don't-a report to the station tomorrow, he's going to search for you. And when he does find you, it will-a not be pretty."_

"I need to find Mater, Francesco. I don't know what he's gotten himself into this time, but it's far worse than anything else he's mixed himself up in. I think it has something to do with the Big D case."

The Formula One laughed. "_Ksst…you always worry for that-a incompetent tow truck. Let him fend for himself, for once."_

Lightning felt himself become hot under the hood in response to his lower-ranking colleague's words, but managed to reel in the emotion at the last minute, speaking through gritted teeth. "He may not be much, Francesco, but he's my best friend. And I won't have you bad-mouthing him."

"_Ksst…fine, fine. But don't say that I didn't warn-a you," _Francesco chanted in a sing-song tone of voice, before signing off. The lieutenant was met with the sound of static, and he let out a long sigh. The Italian car had arrived from Ellis Island nearly three years ago, and had neatly instated himself in the Chicago Police Department. He'd been fighting for position of lieutenant for practically a year, and Lightning had long seen the Formula One as his rival.

Shaking his front end, the lieutenant returned to the task at hand. The Aston Martin was still there, so he rolled out from behind the large group and headed in the British car's direction. When he was only a few feet behind him, the slim car spoke condescendingly. "Well, it's about time you confronted me, Lieutenant."

Lightning blinked, rolled back in surprise. Stealth had never been his forte…

"So, what do you want?" the Aston Martin continued, turning to look at the cruiser with an eyelid raised.

"Well," the lieutenant hedged, before straightening himself. "I want to know what Mater has got to do with this whole thing. Firstly, he nearly _always_ tells me about his cases, and I do my best to help in any way I can." A complete lie and Lightning knew it. The British car apparently did as well.

"We both know how untrue that it. This Tow Mater is a rather reserved fellow, and is not one to try and attract attention to himself. He hardly tells you of any of his cases, and you are resorted to going to his various sources on news about his location and situation." The elder car regarded him levelly. "Now, Lieutenant McQueen, why did you really come to find me?"

The cruiser sputtered for a moment, before sighing. "Okay. First off, who are you? How and why did you come into contact with Mater?" The Aston Martin exhaled, looking around the lobby.

"Well I suppose you deserve the right to know…" he drew himself up. "My name is Finn McMissile, and I work for a branch of the MI6 known as C.H.R.O.M.E. My partner, Miss Shiftwell, who I believe you've met, went missing little over three weeks ago while on recon, and I feared the worst. An old friend of mine and I found out about Tow Mater in the newspaper ironically, and from word of mouth. With his help, I was able to locate my partner."

"But then why is he still here?" Lightning demanded.

Finn sighed. "My apologies, but I don't have clearance to tell you. We require Mater's help though, and I cannot promise that he will come out unscathed."

"But what's the purpose of the mission?"

The Aston Martin paused. "I will say only this—the safety of the country and possibly even the world is at stake and the lives of many if everything goes according to the villains' plans. We will do our very best to stop it, but I suggest that you and your men stay out of our way."

"_What_?" the cruiser choked. "You tell me all that and then just assume that I'll sit quietly by as the safety of the people is put at stake?"

"Yes."

Lightning blinked again. "_Yes_? Well no dice, there's no way—" a familiar voice over the Aston Martin's radio silenced him.

"_F-Finn! They've taken them—Sir Axlerod and Tex Dinoco have been kidnapped!"_

* * *

_**A/N: Wow...honestly, I didn't think I'd update this quickly... :T**_

_**Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed this! I made a small reference to WWII from Tex, seeing as how this story is probably/technically based in the late forties. And just who is the myster car? **_

_**And yes, I was watching Cars 2 again, when I realized "Hey...I haven't put Francesco in yet!" So ta-da! I managed to squeeze him in :D**_

_**Reviews are love :)**_


	7. Hit the Road

_**Hit the Road**_

_~Cars © Pixar~_

* * *

_**~ Across from Radiator Valve Resort, 1130 Hours~**_

"Alright, what happened?" Finn instantly demanded upon entering the room. The two cars before him paused, before Holley launched into her detailed account.

"Well, we aren't exactly sure, but I was able to tap into the frequencies of Dinoco's men, and received the news at the same time they did. There were no traces left behind in the building in which they had last been seen, and—what is _he_ doing here?"

All eyes turned towards the police cruiser in the doorway. Finn appeared annoyed at having been followed, Holley slightly stunned, and Mater confused. Lightning's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, 'what am I doing here'?" he questioned incredulously. "If two of the most influential and wealthiest fuel philanthropists have been kidnapped, I believe I have a right to know!"

"Yes, and that is all," Finn interrupted forcefully. His mouth was set in a thin line. "You may think that you know what you're dealing with here, but you are _sorely_ mistaken, Lieutenant. This kidnapping is more than it seems, and the peril presented will outweigh anything else you've ever faced."

Lightning's engine began to thrum powerfully, becoming hot under the hood. "I'm not a kid, and you can't tell me what I can and can't do. What separates you from me—what makes you so different that I fail to meet the requirements?"

Finn paused, as if deciding whether or not to speak, and rolled back lightly. "Because we are alone, Lieutenant."

The cruiser blinked, faltering at the elder car's piercing glare. "What do you mean—"

"We each have our secrets, the backgrounds we'd rather not share," Finn interrupted, his gaze flitting to the Jaguar, who held herself high, and the tow truck, whose gaze never left the carpet and shuffled his tires uncomfortably. The Aston Martin continued. "I do not mean for this to be taken cruelly, Lieutenant; but I will not have any civilians on this mission with the danger it provides."

Lightning sputtered for a moment before abruptly turning to his friend for support. "C'mon, Mater, don't listen to these guys! You know that I can handle myself—Doc himself said that it was impossible to kill me off! I could be a real asset, you know that!"

The two spies turned towards the private eye and he appeared even more uncomfortable at the unwanted attention. His eyes shifted from side to side, uncertain, as his new and old companions waited for him to speak. Lightning tried again. "Mater, please, you don't have to—"

"No."

The cruiser trailed off. "W-what?"

Mater shook his front end, eyes clenched shut. "N-no. I…I don't need your help. And I…I don't… _want _your help." The police car jolted back, as if physically hurt by his comrade's words. The tow truck refused to look his friend in the eye before driving around him and out of the room, disappearing around the corner. There was a beat of silence before Finn began to follow, bowing his hood in a sympathetic gesture. In shock, Lightning remained rooted to the ground, as if his tires had been nailed to the carpet.

Holley faltered by his side on her way out, idling unsurely for a moment, her eyes never leaving the doorway where her partner and the private eye had driven through, before her brow set in a determined line. "Alright," she began, whispering conspiringly, and the cruiser rolled back in surprise. "We know where Dinoco and Axlerod have been taken—I placed a tracker on to the trailer that was meant to transport them, and their kidnaper took the same vehicle. They've already been on their way for about an hour, and will be arriving at wherever it is they're going in even less time. I, however, have the predetermined coordinates." She moved towards a nearby table, where a notepad lay over the edge haphazardly, and yanked it off. On the first piece of paper, Lightning caught several random doodles, some of them of tractors and strange floating lights, before Holley roughly tore in off in her hurry and rapidly scrawled a variation of numbers and letters. "Here," she said abruptly, handing it to him none-to-gently. She quickly sped for the exit when the cruiser stopped her.

"Um...thanks," he began, squinting at the messily written coordinates. "But...why are you helping me? Your boss pretty much prohibited my presence on this case."

Holley smirked. "He's not my boss—although he bloody acts like it. And sometimes, Finn is too stubborn for his own good." The Jaguar winked, driving through the doorway. "And anyway, it's your choice, Lieutenant." The spy car was gone in the next instant.

There was silence again, in which Lightning's eyes flickered from the doorway to the paper in his tread, before sighing. "Guess I'm goin' to have to get a second opinion on this…."

* * *

_**~Residential streets of Chicago, Apartment A11 3rd floor, 1235 Hours~**_

"So you're telling me that Mater went off on some secret mission, this one being more dangerous than all of his other shenanigans put together?" Sally inquired skeptically, setting the cast iron kettle from the slightly senile old Model T down the hall onto the stove. She paused before continuing. "I don't believe it."

Her fiancé groaned. "C'mon, Sally. I already told you, the old British car said that this was insanely dangerous—he wouldn't even let me come along."

Sally smiled in good humor. "Who was it that said Mater would get involved with spies? The Jeep next door?"

Lightning shook his hood. "Now, he said it would be Communists. It was the hippie on the _other _side of him that bet it would be spies…" he gradually trailed off when he realized what his fiancée was trying to do. "Hey!"

The Porsche laughed. "Sorry, sorry." She raised an eyelid then, serious again. "So how did you get those coordinates?" the small car jerked her hood in the direction of the kitchen table, where the slightly crumpled piece of paper still sat.

"Mater's spy girlfriend wrote it down for me," Lightning remarked with a snort. Sally's eyes widened as she turned to him.

"_Girlfriend_?" she echoed.

Lightning shrugged openly with a tire. "Well he certainly seems to like her. He's blind to the reciprocated feeling though."

Sally hummed softly, turning back towards the stove, the kettle having begun to whistle. "I never thought he'd let himself fall in love again," she murmured contemplatively, pouring hot water into two mugs on the counter, tea bags already inside them.

The cruiser nodded in agreement as his fiancée rummaged through the refrigerator in search of the cream. "I know. Especially after what happened to Doreen...but I think he's actually starting to like this 'Miss Shiftwell'."

"Well good for him," Sally affirmed, setting a mug of steaming tea in front of the police car. Lightning instantly made a face, always preferring coffee, but the Porsche's withering look made him grudgingly take the mug. "So," she began after a moment, the cruiser nursing his chamomile tea with a sour look. "Are you going to follow them?"

The police car shrugged. "I really don't know. What if I get in the way?"

Sally mimicked his shrug. "Well, it's your choice. You and I both know that Mater's awful at expressing what he feels, even if his expressions are usually a dead giveaway. He probably wants you along, even if he doesn't say so." She moved to nuzzle again her fiancée's side, and Lightning sighed in contentment at the proximity. "Just do what you think is right, Stickers," she continued, reverting to his old nickname, nudging his fender. The cruiser sighed gain, and the Porsche gave him a comforting peck on the cheek before rolling back and driving out of the room. "But…be careful," she reminded, before making her way further into their home.

Lightning released a long exhale once again when she had gone, rubbing a tire into the linoleum. If he was going to follow the spies, he was going to need some help.

* * *

_**~Chicago Police Department, Downtown 1330 Hours~**_

By the time Mack had pulled into the Chicagoan police station, it was already past noon, his predestined arrival time. No one really seemed to notice his late appearance though. The entirety of the station was in utter chaos, police cars driving every which way with frenzied shouts and exasperated mannerisms. There were no criminals waiting by the interrogation room doors, as all of the officers seemed to be focused solely on panicking at the moment.

As the semi quietly braked in the doorway, the top of which barely passed over the trucker's cap, two lower ranking cops crashed hood-first into another, papers flying, and that was hardly a moment of reprieve in the cacophony. He would have stayed there blinking for a couple more minutes had the door to Sheriff's office not been thrown open, the aging Mercury coupe following the younger cruiser out, having been apparently berating him. "—it's insane, McQueen. We've got a national emergency, and you're worried about some missing detective! You and I both know that he always disappears, for days at a time, sometimes, and this is no different!"

Lightning appeared to be holding back a groan and exasperated yell at the same time. "This _is_ different, Sheriff!" he stressed, braking by the large front desk in the center of the room. "Mater's in real danger, not like his other cases!"

"Oh, so those various near-death experiences were 'nothing'?" the coupe inquired sarcastically. The lieutenant shook his front end in earnest.

"_No_, Sheriff. But this is a serious matter; Mater and his friends could be—"the younger car was cut off.

"I'm sorry, McQueen," Sheriff interrupted gruffly, a tone of finality in his voice. "But we can't take the risk of this being some wild goose chase. We need our efforts concentrated on finding Axlerod and Dinoco. Is that understood?"

"But sir—"

"Is that _understood_?"

Mack winced at the sharpness of the remark. Lightning's eyes fell downcast. "Yes, sir."

"Good," Sheriff nodded, when a crash on the other side of the room drew his attention. The Mercury coupe cursed under his breath. "Guido, get away from that! For the love of Chrysler, Luigi! Control your henchman and _don't_ let him get near anyone's tires!" The older car drove off, leaving Lightning alone.

The semi rolled up behind him, doing his best to avoid the worst of the station's chaos. "Well," he began cheerily. "That went well."

Lightning snorted, turning to face his old friend. "That's an understatement. Were you listening the entire time?"

Mack shrugged a massive tire. "I heard enough." The cruiser grimaced.

"So what are you doing here?" the lieutenant queried, an eyelid raised. "I thought you were on vacation."

"Well I was, but I got called in to deliver some last minute supplies," the semi shrugged again. "You know same old stuff: magazines, guns, bullets, some first aid gear. With all these gangs riling up, the department apparently wants to be ready for whatever's thrown at them."

Lightning exhaled annoyingly. "Yeah, those with enough know-how and years of experience under their fan belt."

"Whadaya mean?" Mack questioned curiously.

"I mean that most of the cops have been bought out by the gangs," the cruiser muttered, giving the panicked mass a quick onceover. He shifted his gaze towards the semi again. "Please tell me you came for a reason besides deliveries."

Mack snorted similarly to the smaller car. "Well of course. That's the main point of my occupation..."

"So what did you hear?"

"More saw that heard," the larger vehicle mulled. At the lieutenant's rightfully confused look, he elaborated. "I was lucky enough to have been making a delivery near the airstrip, and saw the semi that was meant to carry Axlerod leaving one of the warehouse-like buildings. And _only_ the semi. There was no entourage, no bodyguards, only that one guy, and a small plane heading for the docks."

Lightning fell silent, eyes shifting from left to right as he shuffled a tire, thinking. "Are you saying…that _Axlerod_ is behind this?" he finally asked. Mack shrugged.

"Don't know, kid. It could be a frame job, but…with something like this, it could be either way."

The lieutenant swore lightly under his breath, brow furrowed. The pair was silent before the semi cautiously spoke again. "So...I heard that your buddy Mater was in trouble..."

"More than 'trouble'," Lightning sniffed. "He's gotten caught up in some pretty treacherous stuff…the cars he's with wouldn't let me come along, but one was kind enough to scribble down their coordinates."

"What were they?"

Lightning blinked. "The coordinates?"

"Yep."

"Alright. Um…let's see…" the cruiser pulled out the piece of paper, and read aloud. "Latitude: 40º 6.80' North – Longitude: 172º 23.84' West." He glanced back up at the semi, only to see him looking heavenward, lips moving soundlessly as he went over the coordinates in his mind.

"That's…" he paused, eye widening. "That's in the middle of the Pacific Ocean!"

Lightning raised a skeptical eyelid. "And you would know this…how?"

Mack grinned. "When you travel as much as I do, it becomes second nature." His smile fell. "So how are you gonna get there?"

"I don't know," the lieutenant frowned. A familiar voice startled them, and made Lightning wince internally.

"Perhaps I can-a be of assistance?"

* * *

_**~Meigs Field, Northerly Island, 1430 Hours~**_

The wind pummeled the three cars as they made their way across the air field, the private eye doing his best to keep his hat on his roof as they rode over cracked tarmac, less than a decade after its construction. "Not ta' question yer sense a' judgment or nutin'," Mater began, grimacing as a particularly strong gust whirled against them. He could hear the sound of crashing waves from Burn-rubber Harbor, and continued speaking in order to attempt to rid the memories of the events that had transpired mere hours ago. "But how are we getting' to Tex 'n Axlerod?"

Finn chuckled as they reached a large warehouse, the doors strangely unlocked. The interior of the building was startlingly empty, and the Aston Martin's laugh echoed through the interior. "Let's just say…" the elder spy started, spinning his tires. "I have friends in high places."

The tow truck raised a curious eye ridge, glancing towards Holley by his side. She offered a small, comforting smile, though Mater never realized that it had been a bit forced.

As the cars drove further into the hanger, sterile, plaster walls began to give way to tin and metal, Mater began to grow more on edge. They finally reached what the private eye deemed as a dead-end, the space they occupied being enormous, and what resembled metal garage doors lining either side. The two spy car cruised over to the first one, where Mater barely noticed the tire-recognition scanner near the floor. Finn pressed his own rubber appendage to the device, and after a second of it whirring, pulled back. There was an audible click, before the entrance lifted on its own, and settled into place with an echoing thud.

Inside the equally spacious room, a Martin B-26 Marauder rested. Mater gaped as the aircraft stretched, blinking sleepily before looking down at the trio and smiled. Holley chuckled at the tow trucks obvious astonishment, and the World War II era plane spoke, his accent nearly identical to that of Mater's companions, yawning as he did so. "Well, hello, mate."

Finn rolled forward, smirking rather jovially. "Long time no see, Sid."

* * *

**_A/N: Yes, I managed to slip Siddeley in there! And yep, I did turn him into a plane from that time period. Kudos to all who spotted the cameo appearances of some of Radiator Springs' residents, and thank you for all of the awesome reviews! A couple more would be lovely :T _**

**_Oh, yeah, and I squeezed Mack in too-Can't leave him out :D_**


	8. Grandstand

_**Grandstand **_

_~All I own is this plot, and Benny(who you will all meet later)- Cars and its various characters belong to Pixar~_

_**A/N: Thank you for all of the awesome reviews! You guys are all amazing :D**_

_**There are a few allusions to the first and second movie, so look out for them :T**_

* * *

_**~The Museum of Science and Industry, Jackson Park, Chicago, 0130 Hours—Six Years Prior~**_

"_They never do give us a day's rest, do they, Mater?"_

_The light blue tow truck shrugged, gently closing the museum door behind them. "Ah reckon they jist wanna test us in tha' field before we graduate," he murmured back, turning to look at the Chevrolet El Camino. She was smirking at his great care to enter unnoticed. _

_The burgundy truck's smile grew slightly. "You're becoming as paranoid as Lightning now. What would Sally think?"_

_Mater huffed, activating his headlights. "She would lecture us on bein' a bunch a' pansies."_

"_Exactly."_

_The officer-in-training frowned, nudging the pretty Chevrolet in a reminding fashion. "'Member, we're here ta' investigate a break-in, Doreen."_

_Doreen beamed widely despite the tow truck's warning. "It's not like you to be so serious, Mater."_

_The tow truck shrugged, shuffling his tires as he attempted to look anywhere but at the burgundy car. "Well…Ah worry 'bout ya'," he finally admitted, if somewhat sheepishly. _

"_Aww..." Doreen smiled, planting a small kiss on her fiancé's fender. "Thanks, you big lug,"_

_Mater became hot under the hood for a moment, scuffing a tire into the linoleum in embarrassment. "Yer welcome…" he mumbled, though a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The Chevrolet gave him a reminding nudge. _

"_We're at a crime scene, remember?" she chastised, though in good humor. Doreen nudged his fender again, smiling. "I'm on point. See any trouble…"_

"_And jist radio ya'," Mater recited, grinning. "Ah think Ah remember."_

"_Good. See you soon then." The smaller truck paused for a moment, before adding with a smile. "And try not to crash into me again—you have the radio to get my attention."_

_The tow truck chuckled, reminded of their initial meeting all those months ago, and watched his fiancée drive off for a moment, the light from his headlights casting a ghostly halo along her paint as she disappeared into the shadows. He gave a lovelorn sigh before shaking his front end—they were there for a reason, not for him to moon over the Chevrolet. _

_Setting his gaze, Mater began driving further into the museum. They hadn't found any evidence in the building's entrance that would've led to burglary—a 211, he reprimanded himself brashly. The edifice had been as silent as a grave, the various exhibits and sculptures casting enormous shadows by the moon's light, positively fraying the tow truck's nerves. He paused before a vast window, at least thirty feet tall, and curved at the top, allowing luminescent moonlight to spill in. He idled for a moment before allowing his engine to die. The iridescent orb's glow fell across his blue paint, making it a blinding white. His gaze flickered across his hood for a moment, before falling on the looming displays around him. He spotted a model of the captured U-505, the German submarine, on a raised platform a few dozen feet away, along with several other ancient and historical relics, but Mater couldn't make himself feel interested in them. Antiques were always up Sally's alley, the Porsche having a definite interest in old ruins for whatever reason, and knew that she would be as content, or perhaps even more so, as a kid in a candy store in this museum. Perhaps he'd tell Lightning to bring her once this whole robbery (once again, a 211) was over with, and he'd gotten down to the mystery of how the silent burglar alarm (211S, he chided himself) had gone off when there was _**surely**_ no one on the premises…._

_Mater's wandering thoughts fell silent once he heard a distinctive _crunch_ beneath his tires. _

_The tow truck quickly rolled backwards, the moonbeams from the colossal windows giving him enough light to see whatever he had run over. Ice swallowed his inside once he recognized shards of glass catching the light. _

_His hazel eyes following the trail upwards, they came to rest on a window adjacent to the one he had stood before, a large, gaping hole in the beautiful, yet delicate framework. Horror struck at the same time realization did—this was a 211, and there was someone _else_ in this building. _Doreen…

_Mater activated his radio in the next instant, speeding over to where he had seen his fiancée last. There was the familiar buzz of static in his cab for several seconds, and the tow truck bit his lip in worry, panic beginning to settle. All of his academy training was thrown out the window, and his engine thrummed in fear, going faster than he could ever recollect having gone before. Finally, mercifully, her voice broke through the static. _

"Miss me already, hun?"

"_Doreen!" Mater practically shouted out of relief. "Thank Chrysler. Alright, hun', there's someone else in 'ere—there's a broken window, an' Ah dun't know if they're armed!"_

_The Chevrolet seemed to scoff on the other end. "_C'mon, Mater, this is a simple burglar we're talkin' 'bout!" _Her own southern accent grew more pronounced as she assured him. _"I think I can handle 'im on my own, and besides—," _She gasped sharply, before the muffled staccato of gunshots was heard. Mater braked, horrorstruck. He could hear them even without the radio link…just around the corner. Blinking, the tow truck spoke into his radio again, frantic. _

"_Doreen! Doreen, kin ya' here me!" Numbing, grim silence was all that answered him. Exhaling softly, petrified, Mater started his engine again. He could hear the sound of another set of tires squealing against the linoleum in the distance, but he paid them no thought. His attention was solely focused on his fiancée, and he began to gradually pick up speed, hopelessly praying to all of the otherworldly powers he could think off, that he wouldn't be met with the grisly sight he was sure to find around the corner._

* * *

_**~Somewhere past the Midwest, 1700 Hours~**_

"Mater? Mater, are you alright?"

The tow truck's eyes snapped open, met with the same black and white world he awoke to every morning. Only this time a pretty Jaguar was peering up at him in concern. The private eye shook his cab, sitting up straighter in his seat. "Ah'm fine, Miss Shiftwell," he assured hollowly, and the British car's brow furrowed before another accent similar to her own spoke from overhead.

"I do hope you're not becoming airsick, Mr. Mater," Siddeley said, though it was in a rather cheerful manner. "I'll have you know that my piloting expertise surpasses most—serving in a World War will usually do that for a chap."

Finn chuckled from the other side of the bomber's cabin. "Siddeley Hawker is the only pilot I know who's barmy enough to fly us to our current destination. He's a topnotch aviator I assure you."

"Top of my class," the aircraft declared smugly.

The Aston Martin rolled his eyes. "Yes, but I believe that you can save your boasting until _after _the mission?"

"I don't see how that would be as much fun."

As the pair fell into a long practiced banter, Holley turned back towards the tow truck; eyelid's furrowed in concern once more. "Are you sure you're alright?" she inquired softly, and Mater momentarily wondered when she began being so kind to him.

He rolled his tires before nodding. His old demons were nothing to blab about—he was just surprised that the nightmare had come back after so long of not having it; nearly a year now. "Nutin' ta' worry about, Miss Shiftwell." The Jaguar frowned at his etiquette again—even after several reminders to call her simply by her first name, Mater had refused. It was safer that way, he deduced. The elder spy car's voice tore them from their small stare down.

"Now, Mater, do tell me—have you any experience in the field?"

Something flashed before the tow truck's eyes—a mix of pain, anger, and misery, before it disappeared again. If Holley noticed, she didn't voice it. The private eye nodded wordlessly.

Finn grinned. "Perfect! Although, I couldn't' help but notice that you were a little low on weapons…"

Siddeley gave a chuckle as the walls on the interior of his cabin flipped, and a gaping Mater was met with rows upon rows of every ammunition and firearm one could possibly imagine. The Aston Martin' beamed even wider.

"Take your pick, Mr. Tow Mater."

* * *

_**~Union Station, Chicago, 1540 Hours~**_

"Alright, why in the world are you helping me, Francesco?"

The silver and black Formula One turned back towards the police cruiser, aghast. "Why, can't I help a fellow officer, McQueen?"

Lightning's brow furrowed. "Because you're _you_, and you usually have an ulterior motive."

Francesco gasped, mock hurt written across his features. "I would-a never do such a thing! Whatever gave you the idea?"

The lieutenant drove around a large group of Mitsubishis exiting through an open train carriage. "Um, when you tried to flirt with my fiancée? Or how about all the times you tried to upstage me?"

"Peh," the Italian car scoffed, weaving easily through the crowded and raucous station, while Lightning was left to his own devices and had to find his own way around. "Petty squabbles, and nothing more." Francesco paused in order to wait for the cruiser to catch up. "I know that things can-a be difficult for you and I—being far from home is-a not easy. Even now I miss my _mamma_, just like you miss your tow truck _amico._"

Lightning blinked, engine sputtering to a stop. "Wow, Francesco, I guess I never really—wait, you're mom isn't _here_, is she?"

Francesco chortled, nudging the cruiser with a tire. "No, McQueen. My beloved _mamma _is back in-a Italy, awaiting her loving son's return." The lieutenant rolled his eyes as the Formula One continued. "And so, is response to your question, or assumption really, I help-a you out of the goodness of my heart."

"Alright, I'll buy that for now. But why are we at a train station?"

The F1 sighed, glancing heavenward for a moment. "I often-a question how you were assigned your current position." Before Lightning could retort, Francesco continued. "And anyway, let us just say that I have….my ways of getting you to your destination." The cruiser raised an eye ridge at the cryptic explanation, before the Italian car led him to a more secluded part of the train station. He gestured towards the lone train stationed there with a fender-less tire. "Your carriage awaits, lieutenant."

Lightning cautiously approached the open train car, when a deep and unfamiliar baritone spoke up from the front. "Don't worry, Lieutenant McQueen. I won't bite."

The cruiser quickly rolled back to face the train. Upon closer inspection, the warm brown and black painted locomotive was hardly a passenger train. He was a _cargo_ train. He turned back to face the sergeant. "What kind of joke is this, Francesco?"

The train answered instead, his rumbling chuckle making Lightning jump. "No joke, Lieutenant. Francesco told me that you needed a surreptitious way to get out of the city, and I'm your best bet."

Lightning cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, I'm sure. What's your name?"

The locomotive puffed up in pride. "BNSF GE C44-9W—but you can call me Benny."

"A-Alright, Benny," the cruiser began, rolling forward. "And you're sure that you can get me to the West Coast in less than twenty-four hours?"

"Does a ten wheeler have a 4-6-0 wheel arrangement?"

"Umm…"

"For your sake, yes, yes it does."

Francesco grinned, driving up next to the lieutenant. "_Perfetto_, then! I wish you the safest of journeys, McQueen!"

Lightning sent the sergeant a glower, but rolled into one of the freight train's three carriages. Once he was comfortable, he started down his lower-ranking officer. "Okay, Francesco, I've kept quiet for long enough—why are you _really_ helping me? Sheriff blatantly prohibited any further work on this case."

The Formula One spun a tire absentmindedly. "Did I ever tell you that my _mamma_ did-a not want-a me to come to America?"

Lightning blinked. "…W-what?"

Francesco only sighed, nodding sympathetically. "S_í_, it's-a true—if things had turned out differently, I would not be-a here, but back home in Italy, surrounded by family and friends."

"So why did you come?" the lieutenant questioned skeptically.

The Italian car grinned. "Because it was the correct-a thing to do. There was nowhere for me to find-a work back home, short of joining the racing circuit, so I journeyed to America, despite my _mamma's_ wishes. It was-a my choice."

"And…what does that have to do with anything?"

Francesco's brow furrowed. "What would you want Mater to do if he were in your treads?" The cruiser blinked, sufficiently startled.

"Um...well…" Lightning shuffled his tires. "Honestly, I wouldn't want him to get involved. I'd say it was….too dangerous."

"And would he listen to you?"

The lieutenant snorted. "He'd sooner sprout wings."

"Mhmm..." Francesco nodded contemplatively. "You know, Lightning, sometimes you need to break a few rules in order to do what is-a right. You agree, _no_?"

Lightning startled more at the use of his first name than the Italian car's words of wisdom. "Yeah...I guess so."

"Well then, full speed ahead, _mio amico_!" The Formula One prompted the freight train, and Benny grinned.

"See ya' later, Franny!" Benny called back, starting his engines. As the locomotive began chugging along, Francesco easily kept pace with it, his foreign engines revving sporadically and shrilly as usual.

"_Ciao_, McQueen!" he shouted before the train gained full speed, and left the station.

Before he closed the car door altogether, Lightning glanced out one final time, seeing the Italian car waving impishly at him from his position back at the station. The cruiser sighed as he was finally met the darkness of the carriage. "What have I gotten myself into?"


	9. Pass the Buck

_**Pass the Buck**_

_Cars and its characters belong only to Pixar...much to my utmost chagrin. _

_A/N: Behold, chapter nine! Yes, it's a bit late, and I apologize for that :T_

_Please, please, **please **__leave a review if you read this! All feedback is greatly appreciated, and I would like to thank everyone who has been doing so. And so, without further adieu, read, and enjoy!_

* * *

_**~Siddeley's cabin, 30,000 feet, entering airspace over the West Coast- 2000 Hours~**_

Mater rubbed a tire into the aluminum bulkhead beneath him, his gaze shifting between the slim windows along the Marauder's cabin and his fenders, painted silver by a sliver of moonlight. It was still hard to believe that beneath the cool metal, he'd just had Gatling guns inserted. The procedure itself had been primarily painless, but that wasn't what bothered the tow truck now. The private investigator had never…_used_ any sort of weapon in his years as a detective. Not after he saw the bullet riddled form of his partner all those years ago…

"Mater…."

The tow truck jumped, turning to look at the curvy Jaguar. Her brow was furrowed again, eyes tinged with the worry he'd grown all too used to seeing. "Are you sure you're alright?" the spy car continued. "You seem…distracted."

The private eye exhaled petulantly. His gaze wandered over to the other side of the bomber's cabin, where Finn snored away, safely strapped into one of the seats. "What's it ta' yous, Miss Holley?" he questioned slowly. "If Ah 'member correctly, ya' didn't particularly take a likin' ta' me."

Holley seemed to blush….but the tow truck quickly brushed off the notion. "I know…and I would like to apologize for my earlier actions."

Mater shrugged, looking back out the window. "Apology accepted, Ah guess."

The Jaguar observed his expression for a moment, noting how a flicker of childish glee sparked in his eyes as he watched the clouds pass by below them. "Have you ever been in a plane before now?" she asked suddenly.

Mater blinked, returning to Earth. He simply stared at her in muted surprise for several moments, before a smile, albeit a very soft one, spread across his bumper. "Nah. This is mah first. Can't say that it's not as amazin' as Ah thought it'd be…Siddeley's lucky."

Holley chuckled lightly. "I believe that he would agree to that statement. You seem predominantly happy yourself."

The tow truck shook his front end, though the ghost of a smile remained in place. "Can't say Ah agreed witcha' ya…but it is nice up here. Keeps the thoughts of spiraling out of control and plummeting ta' the ground outta' mah head."

The British car felt laughter bubble up in her throat again, but she forced it down. No need to wake up Finn, since this was probably the first night he'd actually got any sleep since her "disappearance". But when Holley looked back towards Mater, she saw that his expression had changed again, and he appeared to be brooding over something.

"What are you thinking about?" she inquired curiously.

Mater shrugged, though his gaze remained locked on the starry night outside. "Just… a buncha' stuff….McQueen, mainly. Ah shouldn't 'a left 'im." He didn't notice the Jaguar stiffen beside him. "Ah would've wanted 'im to come, but….Ah have lost too many friends already…"

Silence greeted his words.

Holley idly spun a tire, a meditative look across her features. "How do you believe he'd react to your protecting of him?"

He snorted, an action that surprised the spy car. "He'd probably complain fer a good hour or two on his ability ta' take care of himself."

"Mhm. And wouldn't you do the same?"

Mater fell silent. Holley looked him over for a few moments, and saw that his brow was puckered. "Did you know," she began, tone light, "they usually don't allow women to become secret agents? They _never_ do, actually."

She had gained his attention. Eyes wide, the tow truck glanced towards her. "Then how're you…"

Holley smiled in a chagrined fashion. "Allow me to start at the beginning." She exhaled softly, before composing herself. "As previously stated, women were never allowed to join any kind of government agency—C.H.R.O.M.E, CIA, DGSE, you name it, and we couldn't be a part of it." She paused, indecisive. "And then World War II rolled about."

She saw Mater wince, and she nodded sympathetically. "The MI6 became desperate to hire new cars—they needed strong, fresh minds, and began to recruit right out of colleges and universities, the best ones of course; Cambridge, Oxford, Bristol, Glasgow, Bradford, Nottingham, so on and so forth. But because of the war, many of the men had been deployed and recruited, leaving only the women." Holley felt a grin creep its way onto her features. "And that, is where it begins."

"But how does that lead to ya' joinin' yer secret agency?" Mater questioned, an eye ridge raised.

She nodded. "Of course, of course. Anyway, I had been currently attending the University of Sheffield, when an MI6 agent came to inspect the students. After a multitude of tests, I, and ten other candidates were chosen. Of course we were still very low in the ranks, and some of them left after a few months, but I remained. I was one of the only who did, I believe. And while we weren't deployed in battle, office work seemed like a much brighter prospect than wasting away in some blooming university." Mater beamed at her audacity, which usually would've resulted in her earning a disgusted look from anyone else. "And so, nearing the end of the war, a few C.H.R.O.M.E. agents came to our sector. Finn was one of them." Holley gave a nostalgic sigh. "I was in diagnostics at the time—the most boring job on Earth, I admit, but I was good at it. But Finn came searching for new recruits, and I was one chosen." The Jaguar smiled at the memory. "And now here I am."

Mater was quiet for a few seconds, before he slowly asked, "An' how long 'ave ya been an agent?"

"About two years. Finn's become more of a father to me than anything," Holley's smile grew somewhat pained.

Mater noticed. "What?" he implored curiously.

She shrugged. "Oh it's nothing. Just…thinking of my family back home in Sussex…." The Jaguar glanced up at her stoic companion. "Do you have any family, Mater?"

The tow truck grimaced, and Holley instantly felt a twinge of guilt at the private eye's aggrieved look. "…Not fer a while now," he said after a moment.

Holley nodded softly, mentally berating herself and worked to maintain the small connection between the two. "What of Lieutenant McQueen?"

Mater blinked, meeting her gaze. "What about 'im?"

"Isn't he like your family?" the British car prompted. She watched at the tow truck mulled this over.

"Ah…Ah guess."

Holley observed him and he glanced back towards the slim window. "You've lost someone close to you…haven't you, Detective?" He noticeably bristled, and the Jaguar saw that his eyes had become devoid of emotion.

"What's it matter to ya?" he questioned unemotionally.

The young agent spun a tire. "It doesn't really…but I suppose that any condolences I could offer would be meaningless." Mater only grunted softly. "But if it helps any…I lost my father before I joined the Mi6." She now had the detective's undivided attention, and she smirked slightly. "He was a police officer back home. He was the Chief Inspector…" She grinned widely at the recollection. "My younger sister and I would tease him so incessantly for being one of the Bobbies in Scotland Yard…" Her smile gradually faded. "He was killed in an attempted bank robbery. It was because of him that I even volunteered for the MI6, and the reason we're here having this conversation at all." Holley looked back up at Mater, and saw that he appeared to be…repressing something. She wasn't sure if it was tears, anger, or exasperation, but he managed to bite it back.

"Ah…Ah'm sorry," he finally murmured. "But Ah kin at least thank 'im…" At her puzzled look, the private eye continued somberly. "If it weren't fer him, Ah never woulda' met you."

* * *

_**~ California Zephyr Station, Emeryville, California 0700 Hours~**_

"Wake-y, wake-y, Lieutenant!"

Lightning groggily pried his eyes open, looking around the dark train car. He yawned widely, stretching his tires. "Where are we?" he muttered, moving to pull the door open.

He could practically hear the train's grin. "At the Zephyr Station. Your last stop."

The cruiser managed to open the grate, and squinted in the harsh sunlight. "And where would that be?" he questioned, looking around.

"California," Benny answered cheerily.

The police car grimaced. Well that accounted for the sunlight, especially at this unearthly hour… "This is where the coordinates sent us?" he queried, gingerly rolling out of the train car. Benny snorted.

"'Course not! This is just _your_ stop. To get to the middle of the Pacific Ocean, you need more than a cargo train."

Lightning lifted an eyes ridge. "And how am I getting a boat?"

Benny harrumphed. "Well, you're downright cheery in the morning, aren'tcha? And to answer your question, there's a boat waitin' for ya in the San Francisco Bay. A little fishing vessel, named Crabby."

The cruiser blinked at the name, but shrugged. "Alright. And…how do I get there?"

The locomotive scoffed. "Tourist." At the lieutenant's miffed expression, he rocked on his axles in an apologetic gesture. "Just take the Bay Bridge. You can't miss it. Then just head for the most populated docks."

"Well…alright," Lightning agreed, reversing. "Thanks, Benny."

"No problem, kid," the train grinned, beginning to chug along the train tracks. "Beats sitting around the station all day. I hope you can find your friend!"

Lightning grimaced as Benny began to fade from view. "I hope so to."

* * *

_**~ Lindbergh Field, San Diego 0815 Hours~**_

"Well…Ah never thought Ah'd be goin' to sunny San Diego," Mater contemplated, cruising behind the two spy cars as they drove over the airfield. Siddeley was far behind them, refueling before returning to wherever it was he'd been before. Holley glanced back at him with a soft smile.

"And I never thought I'd be asking a tow truck for assistance," Finn responded merrily, sending the private investigator a tongue-in-cheek smirk. "And yet here we are."

Mater mustered a smirk of his own. "Ya'll be lost without me."

The Aston Martin chuckled, bobbing his front end. "Now _that_ is the response I like to hear."

Mater returning his attention to the Jaguar. "So how come they jist let us land? Ah thought they'd be all over us, yellin' 'n stuff."

Holley laughed. "Not to worry, Detective. Finn called ahead, and they reserved that spot for Siddeley."

"I have connections," Finn added smugly.

The Jaguar rolled her eyes. "That you do."

The group neared the gate surrounding the airfield, where there was a checkpoint of some sort. As the Aston Martin spoke to the guards in perfect Spanish, Mater's brow puckered slightly, and he turned back towards Holley. "Um…where exactly are we goin', Miss Holley?"

"San Diego Bay," she responded softly. "We have a boat waiting for us—pardon, they tend to get a bit cross when you call them that—there's a _ship_, waiting for us".

Mater blinked in obvious confusion, but he nodded slowly. "So…we have someone waitin' ta' take us to the middle of a' the ocean?"

"Yes."

"….S_í__….S__í, gracias."_ Finn turned back towards his two companions, grinning. "These fine gentlemen are allowing us to pass."

Holley bowed her front end in thanks, and the trio began moving forward. Mater sent the pair of guards a suspicious look, which earned him an understandably bewildered look in return from the two Hispanics, before he passed the checkpoint altogether.

The tow truck blinked anew in the harsh sunlight, squinting against the glare and lowering so that his fedora covered more of his windshield. The Jaguar noticed his discomfort and smiled ruefully. "My apologies. I've traveled so much that I often don't even notice the changes in weather."

"Well California's not known as tha' sunny state for nutin'," Mater grumbled, and Holley chuckled.

"Evidently not."

* * *

_**A/N: And yes, the California Zephyr track does actually end in the city of Emeryville :T**_


	10. Chrome Dome

_**Chrome Dome**_

_A/N: This is late...I know. And my apologies :T I had to do some research, watching the beginning of the film, looking up some details...but here it is! And any reviews or constructive criticism are greatly appreciated :D_

* * *

_**~San Diego Docking Bay, 0900 Hours~**_

The murky water of the bay lapped at the concrete and wooden shore, and Mater scrutinized the foggy depths suspiciously, skirting the edge as he followed the two spy cars before him.

The thrum of voices echoed endlessly around him, the mixed tones of dockworkers, the ships, and the vehicles of the various armed forces from the vessels that had just docked in the harbor. Which was another thing—the vast ships, a majority of them being military, and the other few for cargo, seemed to suck in the space around them, casting outrageously enormous shadows as they bellowed to one another. The tow truck felt mightily insignificant beside them.

But that wasn't all that felt out of place. The land itself was unnerving; it was far too warm, and the air felt balmy when compared to Chicago's usual chill, and the sun shined down far too brightly. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, and the layer of smog above downtown and the factory district was thin and barely distinguishable from the rest of the air around it. The skyscrapers seemed to perfect as well—shining and sparkling in the early-morning sun. The entire city was ridiculously idyllic; Mater would take crime and grime over this level of cleanliness any day. Of course, he didn't have a choice in the matter now.

He was torn from his daze when the secret agents in front of him braked, and began heading down a narrower strip of docking. Mater glanced from edge to edge as he drove after them—after his close call over the Chicago Bay after his close encounter with Big D, the private investigator was never very sure of himself around water.

In a few minutes, they had stopped again, this time before a massive trimaran Littoral Combat Ship, the barcode on his side reading _02. _Mater looked up….and up.

The ship was enormous, almost shark like in appearance, slate grey, with gill-shaped side vents, and he trained his stone-colored eyes on the trio. Mater visibly balked under the vessel's haughty glare. Finn and Holley appeared oblivious to his discomfort, however, and the Aston Martin beamed up at the stoic ship. "Why, Tony, you don't look happy to see us!"

The ship's glower only grew in strength. "Finn McMissile," he rumbled, his grey eyes falling upon each car, "and friends." Mater visibly paled when he spotted Tony's heavy metal teeth, like the villain Jaws from those James Bond movies Lightning made him watch.

Finn grinned wider. "Indeed, Mr. Trihull. My partner, Holley Shiftwell, and the private investigator, Tow Mater." The older car motioned towards each car in turn. "And we cannot thank you enough for what you are doing for us, and for C.H.R.O.M.E."

Tony's expression remained impassive as he spoke. "You mean betraying my benefactors, defecting from my cause, and cross several thousand miles just to help some random spy car?"

"Yes. Yes I do," the elder car agreed cheerily.

The combat ship only watched the trio with an emotionless, deadpanned stare for several seconds, and Mater began to shuffle from side to side with anxiety, and even Holley began to look uncomfortable (Finn only watched coolly), before Tony suddenly smirked. "Same old Finn, eh?"

"I never do change," the Aston Martin nodded, mirroring his coy smirk. "And do not worry, old friend—there will only be minimal danger."

Tony scoffed, muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "minimal danger my aft," but banked slightly to the side, so that a long gangplank unfurled from his deck. "I'll take you up on that, McMissile. Now climb aboard."

* * *

_"This is agent Leland Turbo; I have a flash transmission for agent Finn McMissile. My cover's been compromised_._ Everything's gone pear-shaped—you won't believe what I found out here_!_ This is bigger than anything we've ever seen, and no one even knows it exists. Finn, I need backup_. _But don't call the cavalry, it could blow the operation. And be careful! It's not safe out here…_._Transmitting my coordinates now_. _Good luck!"_

Holley gaped as the recording flickered off, and she closed the window on her holo-screen. Her jade eyes immediately flew to her partner, who idled across from her with a brooding look across his grill.

She struggled to find words for a moment. "So...Leland Turbo is still alive?"

Finn nodded, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward in amusement. "He never was that easy to get rid of," he murmured. She could clearly see that he was relieved.

"And that is how you received the coordinates?" Holley continued, attempting to get her professional air under control.

The Aston Martin nodded. "Quite. Or least he affirmed them." He looked out of a porthole. "We now know that this is indeed our set destination."

Holley bobbed her front end once. "Very well." She moved things around on her holo-screen, when Finn suddenly spoke up.

"So, concerning other matters….how do you think our Mr. Tow Mater has been doing?"

The Jaguar blinked, and she glanced back up to meet her partner's curious expression. "He's been doing well, I suppose. Why the sudden interest?"

Finn's shrug seemed far too coy. "I don't know. But he seems most comfortable around you."

Holley hummed once, forcefully training her eyes on her holo-screen. Her partner got the message, and she caught him smirk out of her the corner of her eye. "Alright," he gave in, beginning to reverse from the room. "I will go tell Mater of our affirmed coordinates."

* * *

_**~Nearing the preordained coordinates, 2300 Hours ~**_

Mater gazed down onto the murky depths with an impassive stare, his hazel eyes lost in the never-ending darkness. The rough concrete of the flight deck was comforting under his tires—more so than the swaying feeling and nausea that the waves provided. In the distance, several hundred miles away, the vast decks of several dozen oil rigs shone in the moonlight. Tony had said that his previous "benefactors" were working on something big, and something that involved oil. Axlerod oil.

"Penny for your thoughts, Mater?"

The tow truck jumped, tearing his gaze away from the black and white waves, and met the cool grey (to him) eyes of the old Aston Martin.

He scuffed a tire into the metal and concrete in the silence that followed. "Sorry," he began, his gaze flickering towards the ocean again. "Ah jist…got distracted."

Finn nodded understandingly, and rolled up so that he idled beside the tow truck. "It is understandable, Detective. The ocean's rolling waves do provide some majesty." He met the private eye with a sidelong glance. "But that's not what has you so unfocused, is it?"

Mater blanched, blinking, but the feeling soon passed and he turned back towards the sea, expression unreadable. He shrugged. "Ah dun't know what ya' mean."

The British car actually laughed. "Oh please, Mater! Come off it—you need not hide it any longer."

Mater lifted an eyelid. "Hide what?"

"Your feelings for Miss Shiftwell, of course," Finn responded merrily. "And it is about time too—my partner has been alone for some time, and while she would usually say the same to me—ah, are you alright?"

As the Aston Martin went on, the tow truck's expression had darkened, and furrowed. But hidden within the contained fury, was barely discernable pain. "Ah'm fine," Mater muttered hotly under his breath, eyes falling downward. "An' Ah don't like Miss Holley."

Finn raised an eye ridge. "Mater, I know of the danger relationships provide in my line of work more so than anyone, but denying that they exist at all is another matter entirely."

"Ah'm only denyin' somethin' that don't exist," Mater said with a forcedly detached tone, but Finn saw the façade crack for an instant in the tow truck's readable features.

The older car observed his companion in silence for several moments, Mater's brow furrowed in barely veiled fury, glaring out at nothing, before Finn sighed. "Perhaps you're right, old boy…."

Mater nodded softly. Moments passed, and mutual silence passed between the pair, as either one stewed in their own thoughts. After some time, the tow truck spoke again. "Um...this is probably gonna sound real weird, but…" he paused, biting his lower lip in pensive silence. "Kin ya tell me what color tha' ocean is?"

Finn blinked up at his companion, reading his expression to deem if he was serious. The Aston Martin answered slowly, voice laced with caution and skepticism. "It's a murky green, Mater….why?"

The private investigator shrugged, his eyes distant. "Jist wanted to know. Colors kin seem different fer some people."

"I suppose so…." the elder car admitted, when a sound pierced the night then, one that Finn recognized. A foghorn. "But now, Mater," he began, his eyes finding the sound of the combat ship's anxiety in the form of a small fishing vessel, "it appears as if we have some company."

* * *

_**~Latitude: 40º 6.80' N – Longitude: 172º 23.84' W Pacific Ocean, 2330 Hours~**_

Crabby was a dock vessel. A crab boat, meant for fishing, laying traps, and getting paid for what he brought it. His cargo was the norm for a boat of his type, as was his dry wit and crass, and he sailed through life without any real problem. He had seen enough in his lifetime to last several decades, and nothing threw him now.

And Crabby usually wasn't usually one to judge, but his…"cargo" this particular evening was…a bit strange, to put it mildly.

A police car. A Dodge Ramming police car was settled on his deck, beneath the shadow of his stacked crab cages. Why a police car—from Chicago, no less—would want to go to the middle of nowhere, he had no clue, but cash was cash, and the boat was late on his rent this month. But that still didn't excuse the cruiser's distinctly abnormal request.

It had begun as a favor for his long-time friend, Benny, but then again, the train had never said anything about sailing to the farthest reaches of the Pacific Ocean, either. And the police car hadn't even really tried to make conversation, other than dictating where he wanted to be taken, and introducing himself. Crabby didn't even know what kind of name "Lightning McQueen" was anyway.

A stray wave slammed into his bow, spraying sea foam into the air and onto a portion of his afterdeck. Restraining a grumble, the fishing vessel tuned his senses to pay more attention to his rhythmically beeping sonar, and mentally cursed his luck. A few minutes later, when the silence became tense enough after nearly five hours of sailing, Crabby spoke up. They were nearing their destination now, too. "Y'know, this place makes the Bermuda Triangle look like a kiddie pool."

Nothing. No reaction. Crabby held back a pout.

"They say out here, is where the ocean burns."

Nothing. Again. His attempt at sounding ominous and portentous had failed. But before the boat could dwell on his failure, his sonar beeped louder than before, twice in a row. "Well here we are. Right where you paid me to bring you. Question is…why?"

And finally, _finally_, the police car spoke, though his answer was not at all promising. "I'm looking for a car," Lightning McQueen stated succinctly. Crabby mentally fumed at how much more cool and collected the lieutenant sounded. So the crab boat resorted to making fun of him.

"A _car_? Ha!"Crabby scoffed loudly, angling his nose down as he crested over a wave. "Hey pal, you can't get any further away from land than out here!" Was the police car insane? Did he plan to drive off his deck and plunge into the water in search of this "car"? He didn't even want to imagine the paperwork that would follow if the Chicagoan vehicle did that.

But the police cruiser's tone was level as he answered reassuringly," Exactly where I want to be."

The fishing vessel mentally rolled his eyes. _Great, another loon,_ he thought to himself sourly. Instead he said, "well I got news for ya' buddy, there's nobody out here but us."

The Fates, or whatever other power up there, were apparently determined to prove him wrong, however, and a roaring foghorn pierced the thick silence blanketed over the ocean, a blinding searchlight falling upon the tiny vessel. And there, less than a hundred feet away, was a gigantic and terrifying combat ship. But as always, Crabby didn't allow his fear to show, though his eyes did widen substantially.

"_What_ do you think you're doing?" the massive ship boomed, sailing around Crabby to block his path.

The small boat barely retrained a snort. He couldn't be sure, but this ship was most certainly _not_ Navy. "What's it look like, genius? I'm crabbin'!"

Crabby's unwitting companion was not amused, and the fishing vessel was beginning to feel a bit uneasy about his large metal teeth.

"Well then turn around, and go back where you came from," the combat ship instructed, voice low and threatening. He spun around to obstruct the little boat's way again.

Crabby's brow furrowed—he'd received plenty of snark from other boats, larger than him, even as a grown adult. But this stranger had no right to bully him now. And the fishing barge felt daring. "Oh yeah?" he taunted. "And who's gonna make me?"

The ship's sharp eyes narrowed, and without warning, a missile battery rose from his bow. Crabby's engine gave an involuntary start at the weapon, and he marveled at how the larger vessel didn't even need to speak in order to properly rattle him. "Alright!" Crabby finally shouted, giving in. "Don't get your prop in a twist," he added. The battle ship's eyes remained narrowed, but the missile battery was stowed.

Crabby grudgingly turned back, cursing under his breath. "What a jerk!" he muttered aloud, before calling back to his passenger. "Sorry, buddy. I guess this is the end of the line." He was greeted by silence. "Buddy?"

* * *

"Who was that, Tony?" Finn queried, driving back onto the ship's deck. The vessel's resonating grumble could be heard over the waves.

"Just some midget fishing boat," he finally answered, and as they crested a final wave, one of the enormous oil rigs came into view. "I sent him back, though. Nothing to worry about."

"It is a bit curious that he would be coming the same way as us, however, isn't it?" Holley began quizzically. She glanced towards Mater, and the tow truck nodded shortly in agreement. "This isn't a fishing area."

Finn's gaze had been drawn by the oil derrick, his brow furrowed contemplatively as ocean spray coated his paint. "Curious indeed." He paused several moments, and his two companions' expressions began to grow a bit worried, before he called out to the surrounding space, "Isn't that right, Lieutenant?"

* * *

_A/N: Yes, a cliffhanger :P And there, the appearance of Tony Trihull, though not as most of you would've imagined, I expect. And I know that James Bond wasn't around in the forties, but please bear with me :T There weren't holo-screens or tow trucks like Mater either. _

_Reviews are love :D_


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